Papa Noir
by Kirsty Welsh
Summary: To celebrate Halloween. Can horror, sex and black magic work together? Maybe. Starsky and Hutch are about to find out. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Papa Noir**

Rain beat in huge drops against the windshield of the car, the wipers finding it almost impossible to cope with the volume of water. The road, which had been a perfectly reasonable two lane highway before the rain had started had disappeared beneath an ocean of red mud so that the tires lost traction and the driver had to concentrate hard to pick out what was blacktop and what was forest. Wind struck at the side of the car and above the crackling of the raindrops on the roof and the dismal howl of the wind outside, the driver and passenger inside the car could hear the weather forecast on the radio.

'This is WJBO radio on 1150fm bringing you the weather for the Baton Rouge area. Heavy rain right now with gusting gale force winds. This is the tail end of hurricane Alfonse and I need you all to batten down those hatches and stay home for a while until the storm passes. State Troopers are advising that only essential travel should be undertaken with a danger of falling trees and power lines across roads. Emergencies should ring the emergency operator but be warned that emergency services are stretched due to flooding in all areas. My advice to you is pack up and head for the hills, it's gonna be a rough night. In other news today...'

'We can drive back. It'll be a great road trip. Two weeks vacation before we go back to work. Did that include the hurricane of the century?' Hutch peered out of the window at the lowering skies and the dense, black cloud overhead.

'It's a glitch.'

'It's a hurricane.'

Starsky shook his head. 'This little breeze? It's just a shower. It'll pass over soon.'

'Starsk have you been on the magic mushrooms again. The man on the radio just told us to stop driving, get out of the car, bend over and kiss our asses goodbye.'

The brunet skidded around a sizable tree branch that had appeared as though from nowhere on the road. The Buick hire car was doing its best to deal with the mud-slick road but the wheels skidded against the cloying mud and even Starsky was beginning to sweat as he nursed the car through the storm. A deafening peel of thunder followed the blinding flash of lightening that lit up the road like a spot light.

'Where are we?'

Hutch squinted at the map. The light was almost gone, even though it was only 4.30 in the afternoon and he had difficulty making out the tiny lettering on the AAA map. 'I guess we're about 350 miles from Baton Rouge. I saw a sign a while back to Zachary but if some fool hadn't decided to take the so called scenic route, we'd be safe in a nice warm motel by now.'

'What's the point of taking the Interstate and hammerin' along at 60 when we can take the pretty side roads and see sumthin of the countryside along the way? You don't understand the finer points of road trips, so ya?'

'I understand warmth and being dry and having supper placed in front of me by a cute little waitress. Driving through the next ice age with a gale force wind tryin' to knock us off the side of this road into the mud is not my idea of a great road trip.'

'I thought you were the big outdoorsman. You're the one who's always talkin' about when you and Granddaddy Warner...'

'Wilbur'

'Fine, Wilber. You're the one who talks about how you and Wilbur stalked a bear for days or fought off a cougar with nothin' but a toothpick and a tube of toothpaste. I thought you'd appreciate the...'

'Tree Starsk...ahead...tree!'

The brunet swiftly hauled the huge car to the right, skidding almost off the road as a small fir tree gave up the unequal fight against gravity and fell across a half of the road. Starsky wrestled with the car for a moment as the vicious under-steer kicked the back end around, threading the wheel expertly through his hands until the Buick came to a halt six inches from the offending tree trunk, the headlights highlighting the startled chipmunk caught in the glare. For a second there was silence in the car, broken only by the sounds of laboured breathing.

'Missed it!' Starsky reported shakily.

'Can I open my eyes yet?'

'Uh huh. All clear.'

Hutch reached out and cuffed Starsky across the back of the head.

'Heyyyy!'

'Watch my lips Gordo. The next time we transport a prisoner to Florida, we get the nice aeroplane back. We sit in economy and we eat our nice pre-packed lunch and then we doze in comfortable, if cramped seats until it's time to land, which in my estimation is about six hours and not the six fuckin' weeks its gonna take us to get back to California in a hire car!'

Starsky turned slowly in the seat. 'Do I detect a hint of sarcasm Mr Hutchinson?'

'Sarcasm? No. Anger, yes. Relief at being alive, certainly. But sarcasm, never. I mean it. The next time you want to take a road trip, you're on your own buddy.'

'But...we're partners. Best friends. This is what best friends do.'

'No, no, no. Best friends look after each other. They say "Let's get the plane back so that we can spend two weeks on the beach with Delia and Maureen. They tell their best friend they'll buy them an ice cold beer at the Pits. They do not expect their best friend to sit shivering his butt off in some crazy hire car in the middle of a hurricane.'

'In that case, I'll find us somewhere cozy and warm for the night. There's got to be some town around here and where there's a town there's gonna be a motel. I'll get ya a nice warm bed, hot supper, tv and a hot bath.'

'This is Louisiana. That equates to a roof, four walls and an alligator to share the room with.'

'Hutch, it's Baton Rouge, not Baton Stoneage. They have electricity and motels and... Look, there's a sign over there. Whats' it say?' Starsky squinted through the windshield at the signpost.

'Lapetite.'

'See? That sounds cute.'

'It sounds small Starsk. It's probably two wooden shacks and a tradin' post.'

The brunet sighed. 'You'll see. A luxury motel awaits ya. Think steak, fries, soft beds...chicks.'

'Gee, I wish I had your imagination. Just drive huh? Even a roof and four walls is better'n this storm in a car with you.'

Starsky snorted. 'You say the nicest things Hutchinson. Ok. Lapetite here we come.'

The two men turned off the road and headed cautiously up the side road indicated by the signpost. The smaller road lead in a crooked way further into the wild countryside becoming narrower as they negotiated bends and waterlogged drainage channels. The sides of the road were crowded with tall, gnarled trees which sheltered the car from some of the gale but did nothing to stop the rain from lashing the car. The wipers fought on but it took all Starsky's concentration to keep the four wheels on the road and by the time they'd driven another ten miles or so, and the lights of the small town were coming into view, Starsky's head was beginning to ache from the tension and even Hutch had grown quiet, preferring to let his buddy concentrate on the road rather than sniping at him constantly.

The road flattened out as the car drove onto what passed for the main street of the one horse town. To say Lapetite was small was being kind. The main street consisted of a general store, a barbers shop, a couple of run down store fronts that had been boarded up and a small collection of houses. Close to the end of the street, a small neon sign proclaimed that Lapetite also had a motel. The sign flashed intermittently and drew the two cops to it reluctantly. As they pulled into the parking lot, Hutch took a look around at the horseshoe arrangement of small rooms, all with peeling paint on the doors and grimy curtains at the windows.

'My God! It's the land that time forgot.'

Starsky shook his head. 'You know what they say. Any port in a storm and right now I think I'd prefer to be inside a second rate motel room rather than in a tin box on wheels that might just get struck by lightening.'

'When you put it that way...' Hutch got out of the car, pulled his jacket over his head and ran for the shelter of the down-at-heel reception cabin. Starsky followed close by, trying to ignore the smell of wet, warm vegetation that left his nose wrinkling. Coming from the hot, crisp air of California, and before that the colder air of New York, this damp, fetid climate made Starsky feel vaguely uneasy. The place smelled of swamp and even though the temperature had dropped maybe ten degrees since they'd set off that morning, it still felt hot and somehow greasy against his skin.

The inside of the reception cabin did nothing to take that feeling away. Paint peeled off the walls and as they walked into the small cabin-like structure a cockroach scuttered away behind the chipped desk. Hutch slammed his hand against the bell and shouted "anyone home?"

A moment later a woman in a full skirt and paisley print blouse came through the curtain from a back room. She looked suspiciously at the two men but said nothing. Unphased, Hutch gave her his best smile.

'Bad weather out there. Could we check in for the night?'

The woman's face didn't change expression. 'No room' she muttered.

Starsky looked at the row of door keys hanging up on a pin board behind the desk. They appeared all present and correct and he looked out of the door at the empty parking lot and closed cabins. 'Seems like you aren't exactly crowded out.'

'There's no room.'

'Not even a small one? We have the money. What about the end cabin over there. Away from everything. You won't even know we're there' the brunet weedled.

'$20 deposit' the woman said reluctantly. 'No booze in the rooms, no fightin', no spittin' and no women after 10.30.'

Hutch smiled again. 'Yes ma'am. Absolutely no women in the room after 10.30. We promise.' The flaxen haired cop took the proffered key and handed over a $20 bill.'

'Is um...there anywhere to get sumthin to eat?' Starsky asked, looking around.

'Eat?'

'Yeah. Nothin' fancy, just some good ol' down home cookin'. Hog jowls...grits...'

The joke was lost on the receptionist who stared blankly at the brunet. 'Hanks Bar. Down the road. Be careful. He don't take non too kindly to strangers.'

'No. Right. Well um...we'll just be takin' our stuff to the cabin then' Hutch said, backing out of the reception hut. He grabbed Starsky on his way past and hauled his buddy outside into the howling wind and driving rain. Starsky ran for the car, slammed the door and started the engine to drive the Buick over to the end cabin.

'Shit, it's like the forgotten country' he muttered as he peered through the waterlogged windshield.

'I guess they don't get a lot of out of towners' Hutch agreed.

'Out of towners? She wouldn't have turned a hair if we'd said we were Martians come to perform experiments on the townsfolk. This place gives me the creeps.'

'It's a small town. Everyone probably knows everyone else and they...'

'They all marry their sisters or cousins and have babies with three heads. I've seen the films. There was this one I saw with Bela Lugosi. He had...'

'Shudup Starsk. It's a small town and we're gonna be here one night. Park up, let's dry off and go find Hanks Bar. If nothin' else, I need a beer.'

The cabin looked as unprepossessing on the inside as it did on the outside. There were two beds covered in slightly greyed sheets, a threadbare blue carpet, a lamp with no bulb and a small cane chair. The bathroom yielded a tub with a shower above but no shower curtain, a toilet and a wash hand basin. One small towel hung on the towel rail. All the fixtures were cracked porcelain and in need of a pint of bleach. Starsky dropped his overnight bag onto he chair and looked around.

'Could be worse.'

'Yeah? How? This place is filthy. Even the 'roaches are washin' their hands' Hutch grunted.

'You said it's only for one night. Where's your sense of adventure?'

'Gone. It took off when it saw the bride of Frankenstein at reception.'

Starsky sighed. 'Wanna eat?'

'If it puts off the evil moment when I have to get between those sheets, yeah.'

'Great. C'mon, the delights of Hank's Bar await.'

The walk down the main street reminded Starsky of "Gunfight at the OK Corral" where the good guys walked down the street to meet he bad guys. Apart from the weather being atrocious and the two cops having to fight against the howling wind and driving rain, the main street was empty, although Hutch felt as though curtains were twitching and their passing by was being noted by unseen eyes. It was like a ghost town. No people, no cars and not even a dog to show that anyone lived there. By the time they came to the door with the cracked sign above it proclaiming "Hanks Place" both men were weirded out and in need of a good stiff drink.

Inside the bar was much the same as inside any bar they'd been in. The warm, fuggy smell of beer hit them as Starsky and Hutch walked into the large room but as they made their way to the bar, the conversation from the twenty or so men gathered around drinking stopped and all eyes followed the strangers. Ignoring the feeling that they were most definitely the outsiders, Starsky leaned against the bar and smiled at the waitress.

'Two beers and the menu?'

The girl behind the bar smiled at the handsome cops and seemed to be reaching under the bar for something when a large man with buck teeth and a comb over pushed her out of the way.

'No food tonight. Cooks sick.' He intoned.

Hutch looked around at the tables closer to the bar. A couple of the occupants had plates of food in front of them. 'We'll have what they're having' the blond said easily.

'None left.'

'You got anything?' Starsky asked. His stomach had been rumbling for the past hour and it took a brave man to come between a hungry Starsky and a plate of food.

'Pretzels.'

The cops looked at the dish of salty bites on the bar. They were the sort of free nibbles that most bars had. Salty enough to encourage an extra pint out of the customers, but cheap enough that the bartender could afford to refill the dish countless times. Starsky reached for the dish and was about to take a pretzel.

'$3.50 for the dish' the bartender said tonelessly.

'Huh?'

'$3.50 for the dish.'

'For these? There's no more'n ten in the dish.'

'$3.50' the bartender repeated, his eyes challenging the brunet to say anything else. Starsky opened his mouth but was cut off by his partner.

'Give the man the $3.50 Starsk.'

The angry brunet turned. 'But he's...'

'Just give the man the... Here' Hutch fished in his pocket and brought out a $5 bill. He put it on the bar top and the bartender took it and put it in the cash drawer. He didn't proffer any change and once again Starsky started to say something. Hutch elbowed hs partner in the ribs, grabbed the dish of costly pretzels and hauled Starsky over to a vacant table.

'Enjoy' the blond grunted, placing the bowl in front of his buddy. 'And eat 'em slow. At that prize they've gotta be the best damned pretzels in the country.'


	2. Chapter 2

**My dear friends, thank you so much for your wonderful words and reviews. It makes me all fuzzy inside, hehe. So now, without further ado...**

**Oh - and one other thing. there are some bits of French in the story. To those fluent French speakers out there I apologise in advance. I haven't spoken French for so long I am rusty and it probably makes no sense whatsoever...sorry!**

**Chapter 2**

Starsky scowled around the room. The bar was plain and slightly rough around the edges. There were only men in the bar, apart from the one girl serving. She seemed to stand out from the crowd, not only because of her sex but also because she was pretty in an ordinary kind of way. Starsky admitted that she wasn't striking, or even above average, but in this town of misfits, the girl looked good, with long auburn hair, a sweet heart shaped face and a slight, shapely figure. She wore a white blouse, a pair of fitted denim jeans and no make up, and yet she seemed to shine like a beacon across the room. Hutch kicked Starsky under the table.

'Eyes front soldier.'

'Huh?'

'You were doing that thing.'

Starsky raised his eyebrow. 'Thing? What thing?'

'That thing you do when you see a girl.'

'I didn't do nothin'.'

'Exactly.'

'Huh?'

'It's a double negative Starsk. "Didn't do nothin'" equates to "you did something".'

'A double...? I didn't do nothin' either time...once...the first time... I have no idea what you mean.'

Hutch shook his head. 'I know. I mean don't keep lookin' at the girl, huh?'

'You want me to make eyes at the guys?'

'Somehow I don't think that would be my first choice, no. Just eat the pretzels and let's get outa here.'

The brunet grunted and picked at one of the nibbles. In truth they did nothing to assuage his appetite but at $3.50 for the dish he was damned well gonna eat the lot! Slowly the room relaxed a little and conversation started up again as the rest of the patrons got back to drinking or eating.

The hum of the voices was a constant, cancelling out the noise of the howling wind outside but the atmosphere in the bar was anything but friendly. Even though the two cops were left alone, they had the distinct impression that they were the main topic of conversation.

Pretzels finally finished, Starsky took his time to look around. The table that they'd taken placed the brunet facing the bar whilst Hutch had his back to the majority of the room. As Starsky looked up, he was just in time to see a large man with a gut that overhung his belt swagger up to the bar and slam his hand down on it. The girl looked up and then concentrated once more on the beer she was pouring. Being ignored seemed to anger the man and he took a step towards the girl and said something to her, although over the hum of voices, Starsky couldn't make out what it was. The girl looked at the guy contemptuously and shook her head and the next moment, the huge man had reached over the bar, grabbed the girl by the blouse and hauled her across the sticky wooden bar top. He drew back his hand and slapped the girl hard across the face, the sound of the blow loud enough to make the men in the room stop their talk and look around. Surprisingly, none of them moved a muscle and instead went back to their drinks and talk as though a man beating up on the girl was the most common sight in the world. Only Starsky moved, and the brunet did so quickly, leaving Hutch momentarily stunned. With his back to the action, the blond had not seen what was going on, but he was used to his partner's reactions and a second later he too stood and whirled around, expecting trouble.

Starsky had crossed the room to the bar in two strides and as the big guy at the bar was drawing back his hand for another strike at the girl, he found his hand caught in an iron fist and looked around angrily.

Starsky stared him down. 'Don't do that. It aint gentlemanly.'

'Fuck you mister. Git back to yer city ways and' git outa the bar.'

'Not till you leave her be. Play nice, apologise to the lady and I'll go.'

There was silence in the room, but fortunately no-one moved as Starsky and the big man faced off. 'She aint no lady, she's my daughter an' you got no business interferin' in family ways.'

'I do when you're beatin' up on a girl. You gonna leave her alone?' the brunet asked evenly.

The man seemed to pause for a moment and then, just as Starsky was beginning to relax, he wrenched his hand from Starsky's fist, drew it back and launched a blow at the brunet. Starsky saw it coming and dodged the blow so that the big man's fist ploughed into the solid wood of the bar top, full force. The impact seemed to ricochet up the guy's arm and his eyes bulged in pain as he bent double, nursing the injured hand. Someone at the back of the room laughed and then quickly shut up as the guy straightened and glared at the brunet. For a moment it looked as though a full blown fist fight was about to start and Starsky was not about to back down. Hutch, however was not in the mood for battles. Pushing Starsky out of the way, the blond cop placed himself between his partner and the big guy.

'My partner's right. It's not manners to hit a girl, but I know that daughters can be...um...difficult. My partner here just wanted to make sure the girl was ok. We're leaving now. We don't want any trouble.'

Behind him, Hutch heard a snort and knew Starsky was about to open his mouth and put both feet firmly in it. The blond kicked out behind him, catching Starsky on the shin at the same time as he smiled at the big man at the bar.

'We'll be on our way now. This is us leaving. Right Starsk?'

The brunet didn't answer and Hutch looked around to see that his buddy had taken the girl off to one side and was talking earnestly to her.

Starsky looked at the blossoming bruise on the girls face and very gently traced the red and blue mark with his fingers. 'This isn't the first time is it?' he asked.

The girl looked awkward. 'He's my Pa' she said, as if that was all the explanation that was needed.

'But he shouldn't be hitting you. Isn't there anyone you can tell? The Sheriff maybe?'

The girl shook her head. 'He is the Sheriff.'

'Then can't you move out? To a different town maybe. Do you have friends or relatives some other place?'

The girl shook her head. 'Look mister. It's real kind of ya to watch out fer me, but this is just how it is, ok?'

Starsky sighed. 'No, not ok. Look, if there isn't anyone around here who can help, there's a woman I know back home. Me and my buddy over there, we're cops. From California. We don't' have jurisdiction here, but this friend, she runs a woman's shelter. If you ring her, I'm sure she'll have the number of somewhere round here that can help.' Quickly Starsky took one of his cards out of his pocket and scribbled a number on the back. He held it out to the girl who paused, looked around and then took the card shyly.

'Thanks.'

'No problem. Ring her. Ok?' Starsky started to say something else but Hutch caught him by the shoulder and pushed him outside. 'Hey, I wasn't finished!'

'Yeah, you were buddy. Let's just get out, huh?'

'Out? I haven't finished my...' the brunet's words were cut off by the Sheriff and the bar tender walking over.

'I don't want no trouble in my bar.' The bartender started.

'No sir' Hutch muttered.

'Then don't go hittin' on girls huh?' Starsky snapped, his patience worn thin by the attitude of the town and the absence of food.

'Starsk...' Hutch's warning came too late as the bar tender took a step forwards. 'You causin' trouble boy?'

'No, I'm tryin' to stop it, and I'm not your boy.'

'Starsk...' Hutch muttered more urgently.

'We don't like your sort around here' the bartender continued.

'Well that aint no surprise. Gee, you don't exactly welcome folks with open arms. What is it with you people, huh?'

'Are you spoilin' for a fight boy?' the Sheriff chipped in.

'Fight? No. I'd fight back and I don't think that's your style. Is it?' Starsky's anger now bubbled to the surface and behind him Hutch took a firmer hold of his arm.

'Starsky!'

The brunet pulled his arm free just as the Sheriff tried again to strike a blow at him. Starsky ducked but his time the blow caught him on the angle of his chin. It wasn't a painful blow, but it was enough to fuel the brunet's temper and he squared off to the big Sheriff just as the bartender came at him with two other men who'd appeared as if from nowhere. Before Starsky had time even to realise that they were there, the bartender had launched another blow which caught Starsky squarely across the cheek. The two other men grabbed an arm and a leg each and lifted the brunet bodily as the bartender opened the door. As the two men threw Starsky out into the street, the bartender wiped his hands.

'You're barred' he said angrily and slammed the door closed.

The brunet landed in a puddle of mud outside the door. Fortunately, the ground was soft and he rolled onto his side as the rain pelted him with huge drops. Hutch stood just outside the door with his collar turned up against the weather. Starsky got to his feet and wiped ineffectually at his sodden jeans, immediately looking to get back into the bar and even the score.

'What're ya doin'?'

'Where were ya? You're supposed to back me up, partner' Starsky snapped.

'You seemed to have it covered' Hutch muttered mildly.

'Covered? Three onto one isn't exactly great odds.'

'Then don't go pickin' fights with the natives Gordo.'

'Just let me get back in there. I'll show 'em what a city cop can do.'

'Starsk, let it go huh? It's not worth it. We'll be out of here in the morning. Leave it be.'

Starsky grunted. 'Great partner you are. Twenty onto one and you just sit back and watch 'em beat your best friend into pulp. Nice one Hutchinson!'

'You're exaggerating again. You always were a sore loser.'

'It aint my loser that's sore' the brunet replied, rubbing at his butt cheek where he'd landed.'

'You could've landed on your head, then you wouldn't have felt a thing. No sense, no feelin' huh?'

Starsky glared at his partner and Hutch snorted.

'C'mon, let's get out the rain huh?'

Starsky stared sullenly. 'Where?'

'I saw a Seven Eleven back there. What say we buy beers and head back to the motel?'

'No drink in the rooms.'

'Fine, so we drink in the car.' Hutch started to trot off up the road. Starsky seemed to consider the idea. The wind seemed to have doubled in strength and with it the rain. Starsky's temper was still bubbling and his hip hurt where he'd landed. His body wasn't hurt as much as his pride and drinks were definitely needed, but food was needed too. The brunet paused.

'And cookies? Do we get cookies?' Starsky asked as he started to run after his partner.

The following morning the rain had eased back so that it was nothing more than a fine mist hanging from the boughs of the trees and making the green of the wooded areas take on a more muted, grey colour. The sky seemed to blend in with the trees, a lighter shade of grey against the dark shadows and once more the heat was back. With the heat came the damp, cloying smell of the swamp lands. It was almost a prehistoric smell, dank and earthy and it pervaded the small motel room and left the two cops feeling hot and trapped.

With no food for breakfast, Hutch quickly got together the few things they'd brought in from the car with them. Neither man had bothered to undress to get into bed, not wishing to chance the grey creased sheets and now, desperate for a meal, they made their way out and back to the reception shack to check out.

The same woman as yesterday wandered out from the back room, wearing the same skirt and blouse as she had on the previous day. She stood by the cash register looking expectantly and as Hutch handed over the money she glared at him.

'Another $20.'

'Huh? The sign says rooms $10 a night. There's your $10.'

'I said no drinks in the rooms. You got beer. That's another $20.'

'But...' Hutch started to argue.

'"Starsk, let it go huh? It isn't worth it. We'll be out of here in the morning. Leave it be."' Starsky mimicked his partner's voice quietly and earned himself an elbow in the ribs. Hutch looked back at the woman, and started to argue. Starsky sighed.

'See ya outside' he muttered and closed the door quietly behind him.

The woman continued to glare at Hutch who aimed for reasonable but missed and achieved only angry. He started to argue again.

Outside, Starsky climbed into the car and turned the key expecting he throaty roar of the Buick's engine. There was silence and with a curse he tried again, flooring the gas pedal a couple of times to prime the engine. Again nothing happened and with the feeling that rain from the storm had somehow gummed up the works, the brunet got out of the car and popped the hood. Hutch came out of the reception shack a moment later, his pocket lighter by $30 and joined his partner as Starsky bent over the engine.

'Problems?'

'Damned thing won't start.'

'Can you fix it?'

In reply there was a muffled cursing and a general banging of car parts from beneath the hood. Hutch straightened, knowing that getting in his buddy's way would only infuriate the brunet. He looked up, sighed and nudged Starsky in the ribs.

'We have company' the blond said quietly.

'Huh?'

'Starsk...'

Starsky eased himself from under the hood and stood up just as the Sheriff and three other men swaggered up the parking lot towards them. The big man was in full uniform this morning, his shiny badge catching the first glints of the sun burning through the mist. His buff coloured shirt already showed the signs of the heat to come with dark, wet circles at his armpits. A matching line of sweat decorated the front of the shirt which stretched alarmingly over his huge belly. Behind him, a slightly smaller, much younger man with the same buck teeth also wore a Sheriff's department uniform and he was accompanied by two men in jeans and shirts.

As the posse neared the two Californian cops, the Sheriff smiled wolfishly. 'Well, well. We've caught ourselves the culprit boys. Looky here. This is the skinny little runt who raped my daughter Mary Lou last night.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

'I raped your...' Starsky stumbled over his words in disbelief. 'I have no idea what the hell you are talking about.'

'We all saw ya. Up that corner of the bar, talking all cozy in her ear. An' then ya given her yer number. Ya think just coz we don't come from the city we don't know nuthin boy?' the Sheriff blustered indignantly.

'I think either ya got the wrong guy, or you're on another planet. Yeah, I talked to her. Someone had to, but that's as far as it went.'

The Sheriff snorted loudly. 'Talked to her! Did ya hear that boys? He talked to her! We know what went on. Clyde here saw Mary Lou on the phone and then she was gone. She's never done nothin' like that before. She's a good girl, my Mary Lou.'

'Well you seemed to enjoy her' Starsky snapped before he realised what he'd said.

For a big fat slob of a guy, the Sheriff moved lightening quick. Starsky didn't see it coming until it was too late to move and Hutch, who was watching from the sidelines was caught unawares too. The Sheriff roared in anger and took two steps towards Starsky launching a fist in the brunet's direction. The ham-like fist caught Starsky soundly across the cheek and the brunet felt the skin tear as he shook his head to rid himself of the stars sparkling behind his eyes. He straightened just in time to catch another blow, this time aimed beneath his chin. Starsky managed to sidestep, deflecting the punch so that it caught the angle of his jaw rather than a square-on blow, but the force behind the fist was enough to send him staggering backwards. The Sheriff followed as Starsky took two steps backwards so that the Buick was behind him, stopping him from falling. Leaning backwards over the hood of the big car, Starsky was unable to move quickly enough as, in an instant, the big man had his baton drawn and he loomed over the brunet with the point of the club pressing into Starsky's throat. The man was close enough for the cop to read the name on the shiny star shaped badge decorating the pocket flap of the Sheriff's shirt. "Kaleb Flores". Something in the name would have made Starsky giggle had it not been for the piece of wood cutting off his air supply. A man less likely to be called Flores Starsky had yet to meet.

The world was beginning to sparkle red and the brunet's lungs were crying out to take a breath. Starsky struggled with all his strength to dislodge the club at his neck and reached out with his hands to claw at Kaleb's face. With strong fingers searching to claw at his eyes, the Sheriff whipped his head back. In drawing back, the Sheriff let up on the pressure on Starsky's throat and the curly haired man managed to suck in a lungful of air. In desperation, Starsky tried to stand upright and would have made it had it not been for a very quiet word from his partner.

In the struggle, Starsky had almost forgotten that Hutch was with him and now he stopped in his tracks.

'Starsk,' the word was said softly, hesitantly, almost carefully and something about the quality of his partner's voice made Starsky glance over. Hutch was being held by two of the other men who had taken an arm each and had folded them up Hutch's back at a painful angle. The blond had struggled with both men but was now standing still as a rock with the point of a large Bowie knife lodged firmly against the jugular vein in his neck. The point had penetrated the skin and a trickle of scarlet made it's way down Hutch's taut neck as the flaxen haired cop locked eyes with his partner's.

Instantly Starsky stopped his struggling as the Sheriff came at him again. This time the big man had the upper hand and he leaned over the brunet, once more pinning him to the hood of the car. Kaleb's eyes bored into Starsky's as the cop tried to avoid breathing in the dank, unclean smell coming from the Sheriff's breath.

'You still say you didn't do nothin' to my girl?' Kaleb grunted.

For an instant, Starsky thought about the conversation he'd had with Hutch the previous evening about double negatives. Deciding that now was definitely not the time to try to discuss the finer points of English grammar with the law man pinning him to the hood of the car, Starsky shook his head.

'I never touched her.'

'Liar' Kaleb spat and without warning, the big man brought his knee up full force between Starsky's legs. Knobbly bone met with the brunet's family jewels in a blow that would have dropped Starsky to his knees had he been upright. With his body pinned to the car however, he had nowhere to go and the cop closed his eyes in agony and wheezed through clenched teeth as the whole world seemed to focus around the centre of his body. Pains shot upwards through his belly and down his legs. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat and fought not to throw up on the Sheriff's shoes. Any sign of weakness right now would be disaster. Instead Starsky fought for composure and breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly, willing the pain to back down enough that it wouldn't show in his voice. Behind him, he could hear Hutch struggling with his two captors despite the knife at his throat.

'I don't...' Starsky's voice was raw with pain and he coughed before starting again. 'I don't know how to say this any clearer. I didn't lay a finger on the girl. I gave her a card with a number on it. For a women's refuge. Fine I shouldn't have interfered, but I swear I didn't do nothing else. Let me an' my partner go, we'll be on our way an' you'll never see us again. We'll even have the local PD put an APB on her if ya want. We're cops. Law men, like you. You don't wanna do this.'

Kaleb snorted. 'Hear that boys? They're like us! Mister, you got no idea what we're like. We don't hold with yer city ways or yer city cop fancy pants APBs. In these parts, we are the law an' right now we say you broke it. You got two choices. You come clean and confess an' we carry out the punishment, or...it gits interestin'.'

'What're we gonna do with 'em Pa?' Clyde, the younger, deputy Sheriff interrupted the staring competition between Starsky and Kaleb. There was a hint of excitement in the younger man's voice and the brunet could almost imagine Clyde licking his lips in anticipation.

'Listen to me. My partner apologised. He never touched the girl. I can vouch for that. Do as he says, let us go an' we'll be out of your hair.' Hutch added his voice to Starsky's. In reply Clyde pushed Hutch's arm further up his back.

'Shut yer pie hole mister.'

Hutch hissed in pain and struggled harder against Clyde and the other man holding him. Kaleb looked up from the brunet, pushed his knee once more against Starsky's balls, nodded for Hank to watch the brunet and then swaggered over towards the struggling blond. He smiled wolfishly at Hutch and slapped him hard across the face leaving white finger prints against Hutch's golden tanned skin.

'When my boy tells ya to shut yer pie hole, he means shut it Goldie Locks.'

'Don't touch him. Freeze.' Starsky's voice was shaky but loud enough that Kaleb turned in disbelief. Hank was on the ground where Starsky had put him after kicking him in the knee. The brunet was stood with the hood of the Buick at his side for support as he levelled his Smith at the Sheriff. The gun wavered despite Starsky's favoured two handed hold and the brunet looked ashen pale whilst a bloom of sweat dampened his curls, but still, the gun was pointed squarely at the overweight uniformed lawman and it effectively silenced Kaleb for a moment. Starsky blinked slowly and shook his head to try to clear it. Clyde and the other man still held onto Hutch but both men looked towards Kaleb for inspiration. Kaleb stared at Starsky as though he'd grown two heads.

'Shoot me and he gets a knife in his throat' the Sheriff grunted.

'Sure. Even some Hick from the back of beyond wouldn't be crazy enough as to kill two cops in cold blood. Let him go and take two steps back.'

'I don't think so.'

Starsky took a deep breath. A drop of sweat trickled annoyingly down the side of his face and stung at his eyes. He felt dizzy, sick and the pain in the centre of his body was all-consuming. With knees that felt like a bowl of Jell-o, he leaned harder against the comforting bulk of the car and blinked hard to try to clear his head.

'I'll give ya one last chance.'

'You look like you couldn't wrestle a chaoui. Put the gun down before ya fall down.'

'Listen to him. He's...' Hutch's words were cut off by Kaleb ploughing his elbow into the blond's stomach. Despite the two men holding him, Hutch doubled as the breath was driven from his body in an audible hiss. He wheezed and a string of silvery saliva escaped his mouth and beaded towards the ground.

Starsky came upright at about the same time as Hank, forgotten temporarily, launched himself at Starsky's legs in a football tackle any pro would have been proud of, knocking the brunet to the ground. Already dizzy, the curly haired cop had little chance to save himself. Starsky felt the world wobble to the right, his gun aiming at the closest tree rather than at his target. Gravity won the battle and as he fell awkwardly to the ground, his temple hit a small rock on the ground. Starsky had a second to think "oh shit" before blackness claimed him and he could be of no more help to his partner.

Seeing his buddy lying unconscious redoubled Hutch's efforts to break free of the men holding him still. 'Starsk?' he shouted at the inert body on the ground. 'Starsky...'

Kaleb walked over to the body of the downed cop and pushed roughly with the toe of his boot. He looked up and grinned. 'I don't think yer gonna git an answer any time soon. He's out fer the count. See?' As though to emphasise the point, the Sheriff kicked out at Starsky, catching the cop in the side and causing his body to roll limply on the ground.

'Don't touch him!' Hutch snapped, struggling wildly with his two guards.

'Or else what? What're ya gonna do if I do this?' Kaleb swung his boot again and kicked against Starsky's thigh. 'Or even this?' this time the Sheriff pushed the brunet's body onto its back, nudged Starsky's legs apart and leaned his foot against the cop's balls. Even unconscious, that got a reaction and a low moan escaped Starsky's lips as his eyes fluttered but remained closed.

'Ok, ok, I'm still. See? Not strugglin'. I'll do whatever you want, just leave him be huh?' Hutch fought to keep still, his eyes almost pleading with the Sheriff.

'Anythin'?' Kaleb asked.

The blond nodded but remained silent.

'You wanna play a game?'

'No particularly. Look, let us go, I'll take my partner. I'll even pay you compensation for anythin' you think we've done to your girl. You don't want to do this. Let us go and we'll be on our way.' Hutch hated pleading, but his stomach hurt like hell and he desperately wanted to check his partner out.

'Money aint the issue boy. It's somethin' called honour an' no amount of yer money is gonna change the fact. I have somethin' else in mind. Somethin' we think is fairer than yer com-pen-sation. It's either that, or we just shoot ya both here and now.' Kaleb took a step towards Starsky's limp body again, making Hutch's decision easier.

'Fine. Whatever you say. No money. What else did you have in mind?'

'Well now, let just see...'

'You wanna tell me this month? This year maybe? Time's goin' on an' I'm gettin' bored of this conversation.'

In response, Kaleb marched over to the blond and slapped Hutch open handed across the face, hard enough that he cop saw stars and felt blood start to trickle down the corner of his mouth. Another hand came from the opposite direction and made a matching bruise on the other cheek, leaving Hutch reeling and fighting the ringing in his ears.

'I told ya to shut yer pie hole, boy.'

'Well get on with it' Hutch grunted and spat bloody saliva onto the ground next to Kaleb's boot.

'Damn but you city types're so impatient. D'ya hear that boys? He wants to know what's gonna happen next.'

'You gonna tell him Pa?' Clyde asked, expectantly.

Kaleb grinned. 'Should I? Or shall I let it come as one big surprise? You like surprises boy?'

Hutch shook his head. He felt sick to his stomach and the pains in his head throbbed in time with his heartbeat which seemed to sound loud in his ears. If it hadn't been for the two men holding his arms behind his back, Hutch doubted that he would be able to stand under his own steam. He leaned heavily against his captors as he breathed deeply. 'It wouldn't be my first choice.'

'No? But that takes away all the fun, don't it boys?'

There was a chorus of yessirs from Hank, Clyde and the other man.

'And we like to give our visitors surprises. It's kinda homely. Makes 'em feel special.'

Hutch grunted. 'Fine. Whatever.'

Kaleb put on a disappointed face. 'Aww, hear that? He don't seem happy. Well you're gonna have yer surprise anyhow, mister fancy pants city cop. Clyde?'

'Yis Pa.'

'Make Mister Goldie Locks a bit more comfortable huh?'

For a moment Clyde looked non-plussed. 'Huh?'

Kaleb shook his head. 'Fergit it boy. I'll do it myself.' And with that the Sheriff drew back his ham-like fist and launched it at Hutch's jaw. With no time to prepare himself, the flaxen haired cop had just enough time to see the fist coming before he too joined Starsky in the land of far away and his body sagged between Clyde and his buddy.

'Git 'em in the truck an' truss 'em up good an' tight. I'm gonna go and call Papa.'

utcHutch hisse


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The beautiful brunette with the longest legs in the world smiled down at him, her piercing green eyes fixed on Hutch's crystal blues. She licked delicately at her lips as her nails raked delicious red furrows down the blond's chest. Her breath was warm against his neck, her body heavy against his own. Her nails caught at his skin making him gasp at that pleasure/pain sensation that left him breathless. He wriggled his body, thrusting his hips upwards, grinding them into the woman so that she let out a mew of excitement and her hands plunged lower so that they clawed at his belt. Patiently Hutch allowed the woman to unbuckle the belt to his jeans and insert her hand into the warm depths. He would have helped but his own hands were immobilised, somehow held fast away from his body and the confinement added to his excitement. Her fingers brushing his overheated cock felt so good that for a second he wondered if he would be able to maintain control and he breathed deeply, fighting the sensations coursing through his lower body.

Hutch needed the woman to slow down. He wanted their love making to last. He wanted to surround himself with hedonistic pleasures. He tried to grasp her wrist, to stop the assault on his centre and yet try as he might he couldn't reach her, his hands attached to something else.

'Mnnn' he moaned. 'Stop...'

'Aww. Sounds like he likes it.'

The man's voice penetrated Hutch's clouded mind. A man? Watching? What the hell...In his dream he had been alone with the brunette. In his dream Hutch had been in a beautiful bedroom, the four poster bed hung about with heavy claret coloured satin drapes. There had been no-one else with them and yet the man's voice seemed close – too close. Foggily, Hutch struggled to open his eyes, intent on telling the spectator to go to hell. The hands continued to work across his groin, not inside his pants, but grazing the butter soft corduroy of his jeans across his cock sending lightening sensations up into his lower belly.

With returning consciousness came the pounding headache. This wasn't how love making was supposed to make him feel and Hutch rarely suffered from headaches. Migraines were something that tormented his partner, but not him.

Starsky!

Panic began to set in. Where the hell was...

The pounding in Hutch's temples settled to a dull thud as his memories returned and he relived the last moments of the confrontation at the motel. Starsky, unconscious on the ground; four men surrounding him; two holding Hutch by his arms as he fought to get to his buddy. The Sheriff... A fist...Darkness.

The flaxen haired cop opened his eyes and stared at the younger of his assailants from the motel. Clyde was squatting between Hutch's outstretched legs, his eyes fastened on Hutch's face as his hand stroked across Hutch's groin. The look on Clyde's face told Hutch that he would have gone much further had the blond not regained consciousness.

'What the hell?' Hutch's voice sounded dry as sandpaper and he coughed to clear his throat as he fought to bring his legs together. The dream he'd thought was so real still hovered at the back of his mind and now he realised that, far from being restrained and seduced by the raven haired beauty, he was sitting on the ground with his back against the wooden wheel of a cart, his wrists pulled wide and tied to the rim of the wheel. Out of reflex, Hutch pulled hard against the bindings. Of course they were solid, tight enough that Hutch could no longer feel his fingers and the course hemp rope was chaffing against his skin.

Clyde licked his lips. 'It's more excitin' when they struggle.' His hand once more strayed towards Hutch's cock as the blond tried his best to bring his legs together and stop any further assaults. 'Go to hell' he blond rasped.

'You first' Clyde grinned.

'This one's no fun at all.'

Clyde's young friend sounded pissed that he wasn't allowed the same fun as his buddy and it was only at that point that Hutch's brain caught up with the present. If he was here, tied to a cartwheel in some run down hay barn... Starsky. Where was Starsky? Hutch followed Clyde's eyes as the deputy Sheriff looked across the barn towards his friend.

'You aint doin' it right. No wonder Lisa Mae left ya Jed. Give him a kick. Wake him up a bit.'

Hutch watched, unable to move as Jed stood by the side of the dangling brunet. Starsky was obviously unconscious. His body hung limp and boneless, his wrists fastened high above his head to a meat hook hanging from a rope suspended from one of the rafters of the barn. Starsky's head lolled forwards, his chin resting on his chest. His blue denim shirt was open to the waist showing a large blue bruise around his neck from the Sheriff's baton. Jed reached out and took one brown nipple between his finger and thumb and nipped hard. He got no response from the painful stimulus and shook his head. 'He aint never gonna wake up.'

'Take your filthy hands off of him' Hutch yelled. 'You stay away from him.'

'Like you can do anythin' to help' Clyde snorted. 'You aint goin nowhere mister. You're my little puppy now.' As if to reinforce the words, Clyde's hands went to Hutch's belt and started to work at the buckle again. Hutch bucked, trying to get enough leverage to dislodge the young Sheriff from his place but instead his actions seemed to encourage Clyde more.

'Look how he's askin' fer it' he grinned at Jed. 'He's a real whore.'

'Clyde, leave him be.' The deeper voice of Kaleb the Sheriff cut through the air like a whip. 'And be nice, we have visitors.'

With a frown Clyde got to his feet and turned to face his Dad. 'Can I have him afterwards Pa?'

'If there's enough left, maybe.'

'Silence' A heavily French accented male voice echoed around the barn and for the first time Hutch had a chance to see who was accompanying Kaleb. A tall, dark skinned man stood in front and to one side of the Sheriff. He wore a business suit, open necked white shirt and shiny patent shoes. His whole appearance seemed so far removed from the bucolic picture of the haybarn and yet Kaleb, Clyde and Jed all seemed to shrink back from the man's presence.

'Papa Noir was ready. He knew I was comin' fer him' Clyde said almost reverently.

'Papa Noir...Papa Noir' Clyde and Jed bowed their heads and whispered the name in greeting as though they were in the presence of the Pope.

The man in question ignored the grovelling men and instead walked quietly towards Hutch, his eyes drilling into the blond's. Hutch watched the witch doctor approach, feeling like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car. He couldn't have moved even if he had wanted to and something in Papa Noir's eyes held him fast, transfixed. Hutch shook his head and forced himself to look away as the man loomed over him.

'Ce n'est pas l'homme.'

'No, he was there, but he didn't touch Mary Lou' Kaleb said.

The tall man cast his eye over Hutch who felt instantly as though his body had passed through a blast furnace. His skin tingled from the gaze and the flaxen haired cop wanted nothing more than to crawl away and hide. Hutch was almost relieved when Papa Noir sighed and walked away, this time towards Starsky's hanging body.

The witch doctor stood directly in front of the brunet and seemed to examine Starsky minutely. He brought up both hands and let them hover over the brunet's frame, close but not touching. The hands skimmed over Starsky's chest and back before dropping lower and finally hovering over the smaller man's groin.

'Il est celui.'

'Uh huh. He's the slimy no good bastard that raped my girl.'

'Il dort. I will wake him.'

'That'll be good. We've been tryin to wake him up all mornin'' Kaleb grunted.

Papa Noir smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes. Slowly he leaned forwards and whispered something into Starsky's ear. The witch doctor stood back and clicked his fingers in front of the brunet's face once. The effect was instantaneous.

Starsky groaned and tension returned to his body. The brunet managed to get his feet under him and as Hutch watched his eyes flickered open, fluttered and then opened fully, resting on the witch doctor's face in front of him.

'Bonjour mon cher' Papa Noir whispered. 'Accueillez au diable.'

Starsky looked around him groggily. His hands burned ferociously from the return of a small amount of circulation now that they no longer held up his body. His head ached desperately and his throat, where Kaleb had held him with the baton felt like sandpaper. His voice was raw and husky when he finally managed to mumble 'Huh?'

Papa Noir smiled gently. 'You are awake. I welcomed you to hell.'

For a moment the bound brunet closed his eyes against the reality of his situation. Starsky had no time to recollect the events of the fight before he heard his partner's voice a little way away.

'Starsk? Are you ok buddy?'

Starsky snickered but the snicker turned into a grunt of pain as his body swayed on the end of it's tether. 'T'riffic. Let me take a guess. This aint the Waldorf is it?'

Papa Noir took a step so that he put his body between Hutch and the brunet cop. 'Look only at me. Listen only to me.' The witch doctor clicked his fingers in front of Starsky's face. '...écoutez-moi.'

Starsky found his eyes drawn back to the tall man in front of him. It was as though the rest of the world faded into shades of grey leaving only the doctor in glorious technicolour. The eyes that stared back at him were black as midnight. The pupils themselves were normal, wide in the relative gloom of the barn, but the irises surrounding them matched the pupils perfectly. Not brown, or blue but intense, inky black that seemed to draw Starsky's gaze like a moth is drawn to a flame. Beneath the eyes a wide nose and thick lipped mouth sat in the blacker than black face. Dobey called himself black, but in truth his skin was a deep cafe au lait. Huggy bear too was brown but not black. There were few men that Starsky could say were truly black. Sure some were dark...very dark, but Papa Noir's skin was almost velvet blue in its intensity and his teeth, when he opened his mouth to speak were also coloured, stained red this time from a lifetime of chewing betel nuts.

'Starsk, look away buddy. Listen to me. Look away.' Hutch's voice seemed distant, far enough away that Starsky could ignore it. Instead he felt himself diving headlong down the deep black pit of Papa Noir's eyes.

The witch doctor flicked his fingers behind him, his gaze never leaving the brunet's, but Clyde saw the direction and moved until his foot was positioned between Hutch's legs once more. This time, he placed the toe of his boot against the bulge in the blond's pants that indicated Hutch was most definitely male. Grinning from ear to ear, Clyde leaned forwards, crushing Hutch's balls beneath his boot and increasing the pressure as Hutch fought to clamp his lips closed. As the pressure increased and the lightening bolts fired behind his eyes however, the pain became so intense that he could no longer remain silent. As Clyde accompanied the pressure with a kick Hutch screamed, a raw, animalistic sound that was wrung painfully from his body.

'He said shut it' Clyde snapped.

Hutch clenched his fists against the pain but the spell on Starsky was broken momentarily by the sound and the brunet broke Papa Noir's gaze and tried to see around the witch doctor's body.

'Hutch. Talk to me bud.'

'Starsk...'

Another kick, this time to his knee silenced the blond and Papa Noir turned his attention back to Starsky.

'Leave him alone, it's me you're interested in' Starsky muttered, although his voice had none of his usual cocksure attitude.

'Oui, c'est vrai. You are the one who roused me from my rest, mon cher' Again the witch doctor reached up and caressed the side of Starsky's face. The brunet felt the touch as though a jellyfish had laid its stingers against his skin. The place burned fiercely as though the skin had blistered and again Starsky was caught in the gaze of those black, black eyes. 'But he provides, shall we say, leverage. You know now that if you do not co-operate, my friends here will have no trouble in causing your blond companion as much pain as it takes to make you behave. Do we understand each other?'

With difficulty Starsky nodded. Captured as he was by Papa Noir's gaze he found himself losing the will to do anything other than to submerge himself in the black eyes. Papa Noir smiled.

'Bon. Then we will begin.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

There was silence. Light filtered through the cracks between the planks of wood nailed to the outside of the building and shone through a large opening on one side of the barn. From the brightness of the sun and the temperature inside, Hutch estimated it was early afternoon. It was stuffy and humid and still that all pervading smell of damp, rotting vegetation surrounded him, wrinkling his nose and making him long for the cool, crisp smell of the ocean. Even the sounds outside were unfamiliar. There was little birdsong around the barn. Instead there was the constant hissing of bugs and a deeper creaking as the bullfrogs called for their mates. The place put Hutch in mind of a horror film he'd watched on TV not long ago and the feeling of horror was not reduced by the tall figure standing in front of Starsky's still hanging body.

When Kaleb had walked in with the suited man, Hutch had thought that maybe the Sheriff had brought a lawyer with him back to the barn. Papa Noir had a presence about him. He was a man who commanded attention and obedience and seemed sure that he would be treated with reverence. In fact, reverence was not Hutch's first impression. As the tall man walked into the barn, it was almost as though Kaleb, Clyde and Jed shrank back from him in fear. When Kaleb announced him as a witch doctor, Hutch had almost laughed out loud – until he had been the focus of that black gaze.

The blond cop had never been one to believe in what he called infantile mumbo jumbo. It was usually Starsky who, streetwise as he was, fell for stories of ghosts and ghouls and things that went bump in the night. It was Starsky who was the best with a gun, was an excellent sprinter, who was brave as a lion and was also as gullible as a 4 year old. It was Starsky who had bought a guinea pig thinking it was a chinchilla; who had invested half a week's wage on a pet stone and who wisely "invested" his and Hutch's nest eggs in a second home that fell down the minute they opened the front door. Hutch prided himself on being sensible – Starsky called it boring. Hutch had the answers. Hutch was the one who would sit down and methodically work things out. He looked after his body, fasted, ran, exercised, ate healthily. He was the one who used his schooling to work things out and yet all of that had gone out of the window when Papa Noir had laid his gaze on the blond. In that one moment Hutch believed. He believed in the power of Papa Noir and he believed in black magic because to do anything else in the witch doctor's presence seemed utter stupidity.

And yet Papa Noir seemed not to be interested in Hutch. Right now, the man with the skin like black velvet had Starsky firmly in his gaze and the brunet seemed to have no will of his own.

Sweat trickled annoyingly down Hutch's face, from the heat of the barn and also from the pain in the centre of his body. Kaleb's big boot had left the blond feeling as though he would never ever father little Hutch's. His balls throbbed in time with his heart beat and echoed the headache that had come to rest firmly behind his eyes. Yet all his pains could not take Hutch's attention from the scene unfolding in front of him.

'That one's the slimy bastard who took my Mary Lou's honour.'

'C'est celui que vous voulez punir? And this is the one you wish to punish?'

'Yes sirree.' Kaleb's face brightened and he licked his lips expectantly.

'Hey, he didn't do anythin'. I was there with him the whole time. Look, Doc...' Hutch felt absurd calling the man Doctor, but he could think of no other term. 'Let us go. We'll walk out of here. We'll get outta your hair and you'll never see us again, but I swear he didn't touch the girl.'

'I saw him and so did Clyde. These fancy pants city cops're all the same. They wouldn't know a lie if it jumped up and bit 'em.' Kaleb sounded bitter and just a little excited at the prospect of a showdown.

The argument seemed to have passed the brunet by. All the while Starsky had remained unnaturally quiet. The curly haired cop knew that things were going on around him but just what, and just who was talking seemed unimportant. Papa Noir had told him to look at him and that was just what Starsky was doing. It occurred to him a couple of times that he should try to explain what had gone on the previous evening and yet when he tried to open his mouth, no words immerged and what's more, it didn't seem important enough to struggle. Instead, Starsky continued to be held by Papa Noir's gaze as he hung impassive, waiting for the next command. Papa Noir turned his attention back to Hutch.

'Your lies mean nothing here. You are in my country now and all your feeble protestations are useless. Kaleb has told me what your friend did.'

Hutch felt the witch doctor's gaze fall on him again and once more the feeling of fire ants biting at his skin threatened to overwhelm him. With an almighty effort the blond wrenched his gaze from the tall black man.

'Starsk, talk to me buddy. Explain what happened.'

With distance put between him and the shaman, life had started to return to the brunet. He was once more aware of the stinging burn of the ropes around his wrists and the numbness in his hands and shoulders. Starsky closed his eyes and concentrated. He was in a barn and the guys from the previous night were with them. How the hell had they gotten themselves into this mess? And now Hutch seemed pissed at him and he had no idea what his partner had just asked.

'What?' he rasped.

'Talk to me. Tell 'em what happened...or didn't happen.'

Enraged, Papa Noir turned back to his subject.

'Don't look at him Starsk, d'ya hear me? Close your eyes. Starsky!' Hutch's words seemed lost on the air between the two of them as the witch doctor stepped closer to the bound brunet.

'Mon Cher. I told you to remain silent. Ecoutez moi. Listen only to me.'

Starsky fought not to look at the black man. He could hear Hutch's voice in the background yelling at him and he though he heard his partner grunt in pain as a muffled thud sounded around the barn but try as he might, Starsky was unable to ignore the shaman's voice and slowly he opened his eyes.

'Vous êtes forts, mon Cher. I can see I will need to try harder with you. Maybe my words are not enough.' Papa Noir reached up on ripped Starsky's shirt open, his hands lingering over the flat plain of the brunet's belly and the arc of the ribs, pulled high by Starsky's enforced position.

Behind the pair, Hutch watched through pain filled eyes. Kaleb had landed several telling blows in order to try to keep him quiet and now blood trickled from a gash above the blond's left eyebrow and he breathed with difficulty past a growing bruise across his chest. Kaleb stood over Hutch menacingly, his baton held loosely in his hands as Hutch pulled ineffectively against the ropes fastening his wrists to the cartwheel. A few strides away, Papa Noir had drawn a dagger from the inside of his jacket and was holding it up so that the muted light in the barn reflected on it's surface.

Starsky too watched the knife. The blade was shaped like an S, the hilt a golden colour against the silver of the blade which was perhaps 8 inches long. Papa Noir held the knife aloft and then started to chant words that Starsky could not understand. The chanting was soft, almost like a lullaby and with it, the Witch doctor described intricate patterns with the blade in the air. It was obvious that this was some sort of magic being wrote in front of the two cops and Hutch's skin crawled.

Finally the chanting stopped and Papa Noir took one step closer to the tethered cop in front of him. He held Starsky's gaze for a second longer and once again the brunet could do nothing but lose himself in those blacker than black eyes.

'Don't...you hurt him an' I'm gonna hunt you down from now to eternity' Hutch yelled as Papa Noir placed the point of the blade in the hollow beneath Starsky's throat. The brunet didn't so much as flinch. In his mind he knew this could well be the end and yet he had not the will to fight or protest. Instead, the brunet swayed gently at the end of the rope and waiting docilely for his fate.

The witch doctor placed both hands on the hilt of the blade. 'Great Mother of darkness, aid me.' Papa Noir looked directly at Starsky. 'With blood and silver I bind you to me. I take your life force and bend it to my will. With blood I capture you.' With the final words, the shaman sliced the knife in one long shallow cut from Starsky's throat to his navel. The brunet made no sound as Hutch watched horrified although the blond could see the muscles of Starsky's belly tighten in pain as the knife slid through his skin leaving a long, scarlet line behind.

'Fuck you and your black magic. Fuck the lot of ya. I'm gonna make...'

'Faites-le taire. Silence him' Papa Noir snarled, his eyes never leaving Starsky. Behind him Kaleb nodded excitedly, reached down and placed a hand around Hutch's throat. He started to squeeze as the blond thrashed against his bonds but the Sheriff didn't let up the pressure until with one last useless buck of his body the light went out behind Hutch's eyes and the flaxen haired cop slumped unconscious, his body supported only by his bound hands.

Meanwhile Papa Noir had turned the knife on himself and had cut a neat, shallow wound across the palm of his left hand. Now he looked Starsky lovingly in the eye as he pressed his own bleeding hand against the fresh wound on the brunet's belly. Starsky reacted as though he'd been scalded and his face contorted in pain as the witch doctor held himself close and whispered into Starsky's ear. 'With blood I have bound you to me. Your will is my will, your body is mine.'

Starsky heard the words. They made his gut clench and his skin crawl. His body would not respond to him although he longed to fight and kick out at his tormentor and finally with one titanic effort he managed to breathe

'Never.'

Papa Noir grinned. 'Oh Mon Cher. You are so strong. You can still deny me after our blood has mingled, but not for much longer.' With that, the witch doctor dropped to his knees. Delicately he placed his hands on Starsky's hips, puling the brunet's body close to his own and in one motion, Papa Noir opened his mouth and licked delicately all the way up the bleeding wound on the brunet's belly and chest. The effect was instantaneous. If having Papa Noir's hand on his wound felt like scalding water, the witch doctor's tongue felt like acid burning deep into Starsky's core. The brunet writhed on the end of his rope. Starsky felt as though his whole world was on fire, as though he was plunging headfirst into the caldera of a live volcano. Tongues of fire shot through him so that his body bucked and bounced on the end of the rope and when he could no longer remain silent he opened his mouth, flung back his head and let out one long ragged raw scream. The scream ended and Starsky's body went limp, hanging by his wrists from his bonds as consciousness fled.

Only then did Papa Noir stand up and look around. 'Il est fait. He is mine. Now I need an hour to recover and to make the final potion. You may do with them what you will, but I will return soon.'


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – With a huge warning for adult content. If offended read no further.**

With Papa Noir gone from the barn, there was an eerie silence. Both cops were slumped against their bonds, dead to the world and the atmosphere crackled with the promise of the black magic still to come.

Jed and Clyde seemed to pull themselves together now that Kaleb and with shaman had gone from the scene. During the past half an hour, the two youngsters had taken a back seat. They knew Papa Noir – who in Lapetite didn't? The witch doctor had been in the small town since before the two young men were born. No one knew how old Papa Noir was. His face was unlined and no grey hairs showed in his mat of curly black hair and yet he might have been well over 60. No one had ever thought to ask his name either. He had been known as Papa Noir or The Papa for eternity and he governed the town of Lapetite and its surrounding farms with a rod of iron. If cattle died unexpectedly, Papa Noir would be there, chanting and casting protection spells. If a woman was unfaithful to her husband, the shaman could be relied upon to hex the poor female and cause her to become sick, and waste away. Punishments were usually left to the witch doctor who had a spell, hex or potion for every eventuality...and never missed an opportunity to use them. He was both the beneficent father of the town and the personification of hell. Right now, Papa Noir was at his blackest and even Jed and Clyde were afraid. No-one messed with girls in Papa's town and escaped without punishment, especially strangers.

Jed and Clyde marginally relaxed now that the two elders had gone from the barn. Neither would admit to the other that they were scared of the witch doctor although both understood that there should be no monkey business when Papa Noir was around. The last boy who had stood up to the witch doctor was found five days later, in the stomach of a huge alligator. What was stranger was that there was not a tooth mark on him. It was as though he had simply been encased in wild, live reptile and left to suffocate or writhe in agony as the alligator's stomach acids ate him alive.

Jed shook himself from his quietness and walked back over to the hanging body of the brunet cop. The wound on Starsky's stomach continued to seep blood, which stained the waistband of the cop's jeans a deep crimson. Slowly Jed reached out his hand, trailed a finger up the long cut and brought it away covered in blood. He licked his hand, sucking his fingers clean and snorted.

'Tastes just like us.'

Clyde paused for a moment and then slowly a grin spread across his face. 'I wonder if we taste the same to them.'

'I aint gonna slice myself fer no-one' Jed replied, wiping his hand down his jeans.

'Did I say anythin' about blood? There's more'n one way to taste a guy, if ya get what I mean.'

Jed thought for a moment. He had never been the brightest star in the sky but slowly his face spread into a slow grin and he nodded excitedly, and rubbed at the front of his jeans. 'They're out of it.'

'Not fer long. We can wake 'em up when we get up set up right.'

'Oh, right, yeah. Um...how?'

Clyde tutted. 'You want fer me to get ya a ladder or sumthin? He aint gonna reach ya if he's strung up like a hog on a hog roast.'

Jed nodded. 'So we cut 'em down? They'll just escape.'

Again Clyde sighed. 'Just cut that one down first an' I'll show ya what I had in my mind.'

From his waistband Jed produced a wicked looking blade. He reached up and cut through the rope holding Starsky upright with one pass of the silver through the course hemp and stood back as the brunet crashed to the ground and landed in an unconscious heap. A muffled groan escaped the cop's lips as his eyes fluttered open, his body reacting to the sudden change in position by sending shooting pains through his shoulders and burning a fiery trail into his purple, swollen hands.

'Bring him over here before he gits his wits back' Clyde ordered and Jed grunted as he got a hold of Starsky's arms and dragged him over, close to the cartwheel where Hutch was tied. Swiftly Clyde cut the rope that still bound Starsky's hands together, propped the cop upright on his knees and retied his hands behind his back. He knelt in front of the semiconscious brunet and slapped Starsky's face a stinging blow.

Starsky hissed at the sudden sharp pain. He felt nauseous and dizzy and his arms and hands burned ferociously as the circulation returned. With his body no longer stretched taut, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes looking directly into Clyde's.

'Wakey wakey' the deputy sheriff grinned.

'Fuck you' Starsky rasped and received another slap for his trouble.

Starsky ignored the younger man and focussed his attention on his partner. Hutch was still tied to the cartwheel, his eyes closed and his chin resting on his chest. Blood crusted down the side of the blond's face and a constant stream of flies landed, feasted and took off from the gory mess.

Starsky tried to shuffle closer to his buddy but Jed kicked him away. 'Stay put. He's gonna be wakin' up real soon.'

Ignoring his antagonist again, Starsky regained his balance and looked back at the unconscious blond.

'Hutch? Hey, Hutch.' Starsky's voice was raw and husky, the bruise across his throat showing darkly in the dim light of the barn. Hutch's eyes fluttered and Starsky tried again.

'Hey, Hutch buddy. Are you ok? Hutch?'

Blearily Hutch's eyes fluttered open and he spent a second getting his stomach under control before he lifted his head and looked around. Starsky grunted in surprise at the sight of his partner. Kaleb's fist had made a welter of bruises against Hutch's golden tanned face. His left eye was swollen and another trickle of dried blood ran down from the corner of his lip.

'Pe...peachy' the blond rasped painfully. 'How's your day?'

'Aww. Aint that cute? And so touchin' Clyde snorted. 'They love each other. I wonder if they'll love us too.'

'Do you want the blond one or the curly one?' Jed asked.

'Me? I always go fer the white meat.'

'That's cool. I like mine dark' Jed agreed, his voice containing a hunger that had Starsky's heart hammering. Once again the curly haired cop tried reason.

'You don't wanna do this. We're cops... like you. Lawmen. We...'

Clyde slapped Starsky's face open handed. The blow stung but didn't add to the brunet's bruises. 'You're nuthin like us, you and yer fancy city ways.'

The brunet tried again. 'I was gonna say...'

Clyde shook his head. 'Jed, shut him up huh? His mouth needs stuffin.'

Jed leapt at the chance. Starsky was on his knees, his hands tied behind his back and had no chance to shift or protect himself in any way before Jed had unzipped the front of his pants freeing his sizeable manhood. He grasped Starsky's head in both hands, entwining his fingers in the curly hair and pulled the brunet to him. Starsky clamped his mouth closed and Jed immediately pinched Starsky's nose, cutting off his air. There was a moment of stalemate before the air in the brunet's lungs ran out and he was forced to open his mouth to take a breath. Jed was waiting for the moment and forced himself into the brunet's open mouth before Starsky could close it again.

Starsky's first reaction was one of nausea. Jed's body smelled of stale sweat and the lump of flesh in Starsky's mouth made the brunet gag as it touched the back of his throat. His first thought was to bite down and emasculate the youngster but even as the thought entered his head, Jed bent and whispered in his ear.

'Don't even think it otherwise we're gonna see if Blondie's brains look nice agin the straw.' From the corner of his eye Starsky managed to catch a glimpse of Clyde holding a gun to Hutch's head as he too unzipped himself.

'Open wide fer Daddy' Clyde muttered. 'Don't make it tough on yerself, coz I can shoot him as easy as I can shoot you.'

The next five minutes or so were the most harrowing of the cop's lives. Clyde had both Hutch and Starsky covered with the gun as both the youngsters forced themselves onto Hutch and his partner. The barn was silent save for the sounds of gasping from the two younger men and the sounds of raw gagging from the cops. Starsky tried hard to blot out what was happening to him. With his hands tied and with Hutch threatened he had no way out. Jed was big and rough and the huge gag of flesh repeatedly hit the back of Starsky's throat as the youngster got carried away with his enjoyment.

As for Hutch – he had no sooner regained consciousness than Clyde had once more applied pressure to his core. As Hutch's mouth opened to scream, Clyde saw his chance and he too applied himself to his task. Hutch had no time to catch a breath and with Clyde's dick in his mouth he had little chance to breathe. Clyde was not gentle and seemed to be intent on thrusting himself as far down Hutch's throat as he could get. When the youngster could no longer continue, he caught a hold of fistfuls of flaxen hair, thrust himself deep into the blond's mouth and down his throat and completed his enjoyment. Hutch fought down the panic inside him. He couldn't breath past he gag of flesh. He felt as though he was choking and the stench from Clyde's body was overpowering. Clyde shook as he kept his grasp on Hutch's hair and only gave loose when he had emptied himself completely and the blond beneath him was limp and almost lifeless.

Next to Clyde, Jed was also completing his enjoyment although he was quicker than his friend and was so excited that he withdrew at the wrong time and Starsky was left with a trail of Jed's essence trickling down his chin. Jed collapsed backwards, leaning heavily on the cart as Starsky slumped forwards, his head touching the floor of the barn. He panted heavily and spat onto the straw, turning his head sideways so that he could check on his partner.

Hutch was once more dead to the world, his face pale and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. His body hung forwards, his flaxen bangs hiding the cuts and bruises on his face, his arms pulled uncomfortably tight out to his sides.

'Hutch?' Starsky panted. 'Hutch...'

The blond cop groaned, coughed and then hissed in pain. Groggily Hutch pulled himself upright, coughing to clear his throat from the last vestiges of his attack. His eyes were still glazed and although he seemed to hear Starsky's voice, for a second he did not reply.

The brunet tried again, ignoring Clyde and Jed.

'Hey buddy. Look at me. C'mon, let me see those baby blues huh?'

Hutch raised his head, blinking to clear his eyes. He felt dirty, soiled and longed to take a toothbrush and scrub away all memory of Clyde's aggression. The viciousness of the attack only compounded the feelings of weakness, not that he could have fought back, tied as he was. But Hutch knew that what had happened to him had also happened to his partner, and that hurt almost more than his own violation.

Again Starsky tried to get some response. 'Hutch?'

The flaxen haired cop shook his head and seemed dazed and Starsky rounded on his attackers. 'What the hell have you done to him? When I get outa this I'm gonna hunt ya down and make ya pay. You won't be able to hiccough without I know about it. You wanna live your lives lookin' over your shoulder? Coz if there's a shadow I'm gonna be waitin' in it, gun ready. You got that. He's my partner an'...'

'And in the blink of an eye, Mon Cher, you'll forget you ever knew him.' Papa Noir stood in the doorway to the barn, Kaleb at his shoulder. Starsky turned to face him, but wisely did not engage the black man's eyes.

'You have no fuckin' idea' Starsky ground out.

'No? Something as fragile as friendship can be broken as quickly as it can be forged. Voodoo on the other hand is strong. Too strong for you to fight.' The witch doctor turned to Clyde and Jed. 'Now that you have had a little fun, it's time to work. Prepare them both, but take special care with the dark one. I have feelings for him and his punishment will be my pleasure.'


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Starsky started to try to struggle to his feet as Jed and Clyde descended on him again. The two younger men dragged the cop to his feet and started to untie his hands as Starsky continued to fight against them. There was a pillar holding up the roof of the barn and Clyde hauled Starsky over to it and pushed the brunet's back against the hard wood, pulling his arms behind and fastening Starsky's wrists again at the opposite side of the pillar. The tension across his chest took the cop's breath away and once his feet were tied to the base of the pillar, there was nowhere else for Starsky to go. He stood panting, facing Hutch who was still tied to the cartwheel.

'You're making a big mistake' Starsky ground out. 'You have no fuckin' idea.'

'You want fer me to shut him up Pa?' Clyde asked.

Kaleb shook his head. 'Papa Noir will do that soon enough. Let him rant, he'll get tired soon.'

'He's right. You don't know what you're doin'. Kidnappin' a cop is a federal offence. Let us go and we can sort this out' Hutch mumbled.

'Listen to him. You don't wanna do this. You don't want the Feds swimmin' in your soup' Starsky agreed. 'Let us go, or at least give us a fightin' chance.'

'But you raped my Mary Lou. That's gotta be punished' Kaleb snapped.

'Raped... How many times, huh? Unless your definition of rape and mine differ wildly I did nuthin more than talk to her and advise her to get the hell out of the town. Seems like that was pretty good advice. You're crazy...the lot of ya' Starsky snarled.

Until that moment Papa Noir had been content to remain by the door. Now he glided across the barn and came to stand by Starsky's side.

'My good friend Kaleb tells me you violated his daughter. He tells me you dishonoured her and thus him. That sort of behaviour should be punished, n'est pas?'

'And you believe him? Him and the rest of the good townsfolk of Lapetite made it pretty obvious that they didn't want us here. This is just his way to get rid of us' Starsky said. The witchdoctor stood in front of him and this time Starsky resisted the temptation to meet the man's eyes.

'But I don't want to get rid of you Mon Cher. I want to keep you here as my...shall we say mon amour... or maybe my amusement.'

Starsky snorted. 'Yeah? And what exactly does that mean coz there aint a snowball's chance in hell of me stayin' here.'

'No? I think you underestimate me.'

'The feelin's mutual.'

'Are you saying that I couldn't keep you here if I desired it?'

'I'm sayin' over my dead body.'

Papa Noir smiled. 'That could be arranged although I am not the sort of man who gets my amusement from a zombie. I prefer my pets to remain alive, so long as they bend to my will.'

'And you think that's gonna happen? Forget it!' Starsky snapped.

'I think that you will not stand a chance Mon Cher.'

Starsky paused, thinking. 'Ok, so if you want me to stay here, what about Hutch?'

'I think the blond one would be game enough for Jed and Clyde. If he can escape them, he is free to go.'

'He'd just come back for me.'

'Then he'll die trying.' Papa Noir lifted a hand and gently brushed it down Starsky's cheek. The light touch send a shiver of electricity down the brunet's spine and once again Starsky felt that spacey feeling start to invade his consciousness. He shook his head to clear it and took a deep, if shaky breath.

'What would it cost for you to let him go?'

'Starsk, what're you sayin?' Hutch asked sharply.

Starsky looked passed the shaman to his buddy. 'I'm askin' what it'll cost for 'em to let you go free. No use the two of us bein' here. Besides, when it comes down to it, it's usually Me and Thee.'

The added emphasis on the last three words was not lost on Papa Noir. 'You think you have a deep friendship with him?' he asked.

'I know I have.'

Light shone fro he witchdoctor's eyes. 'So if I could break that, you would willingly stay? You would forget your friend?'

Starsky shook his head. 'No, that's not what I said. I asked what it'd cost for you to let him go.'

'And I'm asking whether you think your bond is so strong.'

'Stronger'n you'll ever know' Hutch snarled from the floor.

Papa Noir whirled. 'Really?'

'Uh huh. Really.'

'And you would be willing to put that to the test? I don't think so. He's mine and he'll remain mine.' Again, Papa Noir brushed his hand down Starsky's body, down the brunet's belly and along the line of the cut he'd made earlier and again Hutch saw Starsky's muscles bunch at the touch.

'I'll put that to the test, sure, but I think you overestimate your magic' Hutch said, his voice level and getting stronger by the moment.

Papa Noir whirled and stared at the blond. Hutch evaded his eyes, looking instead directly at the witch doctor's mouth. 'You wish to bet mon ami?'

Hutch pulled himself up against his bonds. From the look on Papa Noir's face he knew he'd peaked the shaman's interest and an idea was forming in his head. It was a long shot and the pains in his head and down the side of his face made it tough to concentrate, but it seemed the only way to get the two of them out and free to make a run for it.

'I'll bet black's white if it gets us outa here. Thing is, I don't think money's your thing, so what'll make it worth your while?'

Papa Noir smiled. The expression was chilling. There was no warmth behind those black within black eyes and the smile showed the red stained teeth giving the impression that the witch doctor had just feasted on something very bloody. Hutch repressed a shudder.

'Vous êtes sérieux? You would place a bet with me that I could make him mine?'

'Hutch, don't do this.' This from Starsky. He had an idea what he blond cop was thinking of but much as Starsky wanted to get out of this mess and away from the flakes of Lapetite he couldn't ignore the pull in Papa Noir's eyes, or the electric current that seemed to shoot through him whenever the witch doctor touched him. However strong his bond with Hutch, the brunet felt it would be the work of a minute for Papa to undo it.

It wasn't that Starsky was gullible- far from it. He liked to portray that to his friends. Sure, he'd buy a pet stone or get shares in a garlic factory at the mere mention of vampires, but it was a show and Hutch knew it, although some of the guys in the squad room thought he was pretty out there. Starsky liked to play class clown. The front hid his insecurities, but it also worked for him on other levels. The flakes on the street saw a slightly ditsy cop and immediately labelled him a push over. It wasn't until Starsky went for their jugular that they realised that what they'd taken for "simple" was a cover. By then, it was too late and Starsky had his man.

This situation was different though. Putting Starsky's play acting to one side, the brunet actually found Papa Noir to be both intimidating and also...intoxicating. Was that he right word? It was as though when he looked into the shaman's eyes he felt as though he'd been lost all his life and had now found his way home. There was something at the bottom of that gaze that Starsky longed to get to and the pull to drink deeply of Papa's gaze was too much to fight. And yet when the gaze was broken. Starsky's senses returned and he knew he'd been weak. It was only then that he could resolve not to look into the man's eyes again. What Hutch was suggesting scared Starsky, not because he doubted his connection with the blond, but more that he realised how strong Papa Noir really was. Even now, Starsky could feel the pull of the witch doctor even though Papa Noir had his back to him. It scared Starsky and he resolved to fight all the harder. If he could put a distance between himself and Papa, then surely the pull would grow weaker? After all, it was only the shaman's gaze that affected him.

'I will make this a fair bet' Papa was saying. 'I will bet you that I can keep him tied to me and if that is the case, you can go free.'

Hutch shook his head. 'Uh uh. No deal. You may be able to do your mojo on him whilst you're both in the same room, but what'd happen when we put some distance between us and you?'

Papa Noir seemed to consider. 'What are you saying?'

'I'm sayin' that you should let us go. Allow us to make a run for it. If you still have a hold on Starsky and you can call him back, then fine, he's yours.'

'Um...guys...I'm right here' Starsky muttered, hating the fact that the two men were talking about him as though he wasn't there.

Papa Noir nodded. 'It would be a fair trial of power. Your friendship over my, as you put it, mojo.'

'Fine, cut our bonds, let us go and we'll be outa your hair.'

'So that you can bring your federal agents back to Lapetite?'

Hutch shook his head. 'No. No Feds. Believe me, once we're gone from this fuckin' town we don't ever want to come back.'

'What do you say?' Papa Noir turned to Kaleb who had so far been silent.

'If they go, do we get to hunt 'em?'

'If you desire.'

'With dogs?'

'If that is what you want, yes.'

Kaleb considered. 'How much time you gonna give 'em to git away?'

Papa Noir turned back to Hutch. 'Would an hour be fair?'

Hutch nodded finding the whole situation surreal. He was bargaining for their lives...maybe for Starsky's sanity whilst tied to a cartwheel in front of a witch doctor and he was doing it like he was bargaining for an extra buffalo wing at the local deli. 'An hour's good. Let us go, and we can start now.'

'Hutch what're ya doin'?' Starsky snapped. 'You gonna believe this flake?'

'From where I'm sat, we don't have a lot of choice partner.'

'You're as crazy as they are. There's swamp in every direction. They know where they are and we don't. Rethink it and...'

Papa Noir turned slowly so that he could look fully at Starsky. The brunet felt the full weight of the gaze as though a lead weight had landed on his chest. The air around him seemed to get thicker, making breathing difficult and despite fighting not to look into Papa's eyes, Starsky found himself drawn to the witch doctor.

'When I wish you to speak, mon cher, I will allow it. Until then...silence.' Papa Noir clicked his fingers in Starsky's direction and suddenly it was as though the brunet had a gag in his mouth. His tongue seemed to swell and his lips went dry as a bone so that he could neither form words, nor think about what he wanted to say. Starsky shook his head slowly from side to side like a wounded dog and yet the feeling wouldn't go. He looked at Hutch in mute appeal. Whatever deal the blond was going to cut with the men in the barn, Starsky was sure now that it was doomed to fail. The only thing he knew for sure was that he'd rather die than spend the rest of his life as Papa Noir's pet.

The shaman looked satisfied and turned back to Hutch. 'We have agreed terms, but there is still some preparation which means you will be our guests for just a little while longer.'

'Preparation? What preparation? No-one said anything about preparation. The deal was you let us go and we have an hours head start on you.'

'And indeed that is the deal, but I need to complete the bond between myself and my handsome acquisition. You wouldn't stop me from enjoying his company just a little while longer would you?'

'Like hell. The deal's off' Hutch yelled. 'You let us go now or every Fed in the country is gonna be crawling over your little empire like ants and...'

Papa Noir sighed. 'I tire of his voice. Shut him up for me' he told Kaleb. The sheriff grinned, tore off a grimy piece of sacking from a strip on the floor and tied it firmly around Hutch's mouth, firmly gagging the cop. Hutch shook his head and tried not to inhale the dirt and dust from the cloth. It stretched his mouth painfully and he found it difficult to breathe but he could no longer take his eyes away from the witch doctor as he started to open his large leather bag and lay out his props in front of Starsky.

'Now that we have silence, the preparation can begin' Papa Noir said softly, caressing Starsky's cheek once more.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The atmosphere within the barn crackled with electricity as Papa Noir crouched over his bag of tricks and started to get his equipment together. His hands were sure as he brought out from the depths of the Gladstone bag a silver knife with an eight inch blade, a silver salver perhaps six inches across, a jar containing some sort of herb or plant which had been cut up into pieces and a bottle of water which had the sign of the cross on it, although the cross was upside down. He laid a black cloth on an upturned bale of hay and set out the stuff on the cloth where both Starsky and Hutch could see it.

Meanwhile, Kaleb had gone outside and returned with a black cockerel which he held by the feet upside down. The poor bird squawked and flapped its stunted wings ineffectually, but the big man held on tight and ignored the struggles.

Starsky watched the preparations with growing unease. Up until now he had felt that, given an iron will, he would be able to resist Papa Noir's eyes, or even if he did catch the glance, he would somehow be able to fight the power the witch doctor seemed to hold. Although he still felt the proximity of the shaman like a weight around his shoulders, Starsky had convinced himself that he would be able to fight Papa's influences and maybe even play along a little to make the shaman believe that he had Starsky in his thrall. Now, with the strange, almost religious artefacts set out on the black cloth in front of him, that hope faded and Starsky started to struggle against his bonds, tearing the skin around his wrists in an attempt to set himself free.

'What the fuck are ya doin'? he snapped. 'You're crazy. The whole town is crazy. I'm gonna hunt you down and kill the lot of ya. You have no idea... I'm...'

Papa Noir looked up, an unconcerned look on his face. He rose so that he stood directly in front of Starsky and once again the brunet averted his gaze. It didn't help however and Papa Noir clicked his fingers once in front of Starsky's face.

'Silence' he almost whispered and immediately the curly haired cop felt as though his throat had tightened and his lips had gone numb. However hard Starsky tried to speak no sound came out and the harder he tried, the more he felt that there was an invisible hand around his neck, cutting off his airway. Starsky wheezed and coughed, trying to draw oxygen into his lungs and as he stopped trying to protest, the pressure eased, allowing him to take a breath.

Papa Noir smiled. 'C'est mieux. That's better Mon Cher. We would not want you to spoil the moment, would we?'

Starsky's eyes narrowed angrily and he looked past the shaman to his buddy, bound on the floor. Hutch's mouth was stretched full of the dirty sacking, but the crystal blue eyes above were full of anger. Hutch shook his head and locked eyes with Starsky, their gaze giving each man a measure of comfort and courage. The expression in Hutch's eyes was easy to read – stick with his partner. We'll get out somehow but you're gonna have to fight damned hard.

Starsky's eyes answered – don't worry about me, I can do this. No problem.

But while the brunet's eyes said one thing, his heart told him a different story. If Papa Noir could silence him so effectively with nothing but a click of his fingers, how on earth was Starsky going to fight what looked like a full on voodoo ceremony?

The answer looked as though it would be given quickly. The light in the barn was fading fast. The short twilight gave a cold, grey look to the big wooden building, enhancing the darkness in the corners and elongating the last shadows of the day. As darkness fell, Kaleb, Clyde and Jed produced candles from the shelves near the door and at a signal from Papa Noir started to lay them in a wide circle around the bound brunet and blond. With the wicks lit, the two cops, Papa Noir and the three other men were encircled in a pool of amber flame, the light flickering gently in the small breeze from the partly open door of the barn. The candle light did nothing to calm Starsky or Hutch. Instead of the soft, romantic glow usually associated with the candles, the flickering flames seemed to highlight the shadows, making the darker places even more gloomy and lighting Papa Noir's face from below so that his features took on an ominous, almost monstrous appearance.

With the final touches made to the barn, Papa looked around and seemed satisfied. Clyde and Jed melted into the background as Kaleb, still holding the cockerel, came to stand close to the witch doctor.

Papa Noir closed his eyes, seemingly pushing himself into a trance. He held up the knife and muttered words over it that Starsky could not make out.

The brunet's heart hammered in his chest. The air around him seemed to have almost solidified, making it hard to breathe. His arms, pulled tightly behind his back increased the pressure on his chest. The core of his body throbbed and his throat was raw and as sore from Papa's spell as if he had had a flake physically try to strangle him. But above all the pains in his body, the one thing that Starsky felt more than anything else was fear. However hard the brunet tried to reason out his situation, there was something very real about the evil emanating from Papa Noir. He was a practitioner of Voodoo and did not concentrate on the good, benign side of the religion. Waves of dark power seemed to flow from the tall black man and as Papa Noir's chanting continued, the power seemed to grown until Starsky felt suffocated and confined.

On the floor, Hutch struggled against his bonds. He felt powerless as he saw his buddy overshadowed by the witch doctor. Papa Noir seemed to have grown taller somehow and even though Starsky was a whisker short of six foot tall, he seemed to have shrunk besides the black man. Hutch wanted to yell at his buddy to look away, to concentrate on something else – to take his mind away from what was going on in front of him and yet with the sacking bound across his mouth, Hutch could do nothing but struggle all the harder and make muffled sounds from behind his gag.

It did nothing to help Starsky who yearned to hear his partner's voice once more. That voice had got him through some tough times, when he'd been sick, or sad or downright blazing angry. Hutch had always been there for him and the blond's velvety voice had helped him to forget his troubles or his pain for a short time. It was as though Papa Noir knew instinctively how to cut off Starsky's source of strength, leaving the brunet vulnerable and alone. As Hutch watched, unable to help, Papa Noir loomed over Starsky's bound body and lifted the knife high.

Starsky's eyes never left the knife. It's bright silver blade shone and glinted in the light of the candles as Papa Noir started to chant in some unknown or forgotten language. The witch doctor's eyes were closed, his body taut as a bowstring and the knife was rock steady in his hands.

The chanting continued as the knife started to descend lower and lower in a gentle arc until it hovered a foot above Starsky's chest. Papa Noir started to chant louder, his black eyes now open and staring as his red teeth flashed within his mouth. The knife started to describe intricate and complicated designs in the air in front of Starsky's body and at an unseen signal, Kaleb stepped forwards and ripped the rest of the buttons from the brunet's shirt, leaving his chest bare and exposed.

The cockerel in Kaleb's hands seemed to understand that it's time had come and the sheriff lifted it squawking and flapping so that Papa Noir could take a hold of it's head. In one clean slice, the witch doctor decapitated the poor bird and the hot blood gushed over his hands, splashing against Starsky's bare belly. The brunet recoiled at the ruby coloured fluid but Kaleb held steady as Papa Noir took the top from the jar with the herbs inside it and held the open container beneath the fall of blood. The bird's body went limp, the death having been swift and clean and Kaleb plucked one of the glossy black feathers from the area over the cockerel's heart. He handed it to Papa Noir who kissed the feather lightly, muttered words over it and dropped that too into the jar.

Starsky watched, fascinated and horrified. He'd heard of voodoo rituals. He'd seen them in black and white horror films on the TV, but nothing Hollywood could deliver could prepare him for the real thing. The air seemed to be crackling with an unseen power around Papa Noir. The witch doctor seemed to have grown in stature and he loomed over the bound brunet who fought hard to keep his heart from hammering clean out of his chest.

Finally, with the knife poised again, Papa Noir seemed to notice Starsky as though for the first time. He took a step closer to the cop and gently reached out and put a hand under Starsky's chin, raising it so that he could see Starsky's eyes. Starsky immediately closed them, fighting against the insane compulsion to drown in their black depths.

'Regardez-moi mon cher. Look at me' Papa whispered, his hand hard against Starsky's neck. 'Look at me, I command you.'

Starsky clamped his eyes closed. He wouldn't look...he couldn't look...he... the air seemed to get thicker around him, the heat from the candles burning at his skin, the hand on his neck becoming more solid like an iron vice and although Starsky's inner voice told him to keep his eyes closed, the insistent French accented voice in front of him was stronger and slowly, Starsky's indigo blue eyes opened.

'Please god no...' the brunet whispered 'No, no.'

Hutch writhed against his bonds, the desperation in his partner's voice almost palpable.

Despite his iron will, Starsky's eyes opened fully...and looked directly into Papa Noir's.

It was as though the world dropped away from the brunet. Like a special effect in a film, the rest of the barn became misty and soft focus and only Papa Noir seemed to be crystal clear in Starsky's eyes. Fight as he might, the brunet couldn't ear his gaze away from the witch doctor as once again Papa took the knife and sliced across the palm of his own hand, allowing the droplets of blood to mingle with the cockerel's in the glass jar.

Starsky's mind recoiled in horror as the knife came close once again to his bare chest. The witch doctor seemed to pause, studying the long line of the cut he'd made earlier and then he made his decision and aimed the knife at the red line closest to Starsky's heart. He pressed the tip of the blade against the olive toned, lightly furred flesh and pushed. Starsky felt the pain immediately although it never occurred to him to cry out. The tip of the knife seemed to be boring into the very centre of his body although in reality Papa Noir merely nicked the flesh and caught some of Starsky's blood too in the jar. Satisfied that he had what he wanted, the shaman turned away and started to mix the dark red fluid with a gnarled and crooked shaft of wood.

More words were muttered over the potion as Papa mixed slowly with the stick. His eyes once again seemed heavy, as though he'd gone to another place and at the same time, Starsky felt an overwhelming weariness sweep over him too. The brunet shook his head, trying to clear it of all memory of Papa Noir's touch and yet, the more he fought, the weaker he seemed to get until the witch doctor's presence filled up his entire consciousness.

Hutch sat and watched the show. He could do nothing to help his buddy. He was bound tightly to the cartwheel – so tightly that his hands had long since lost all feeling. The blond's shoulders ached and the gag in his mouth threatened to choke him and yet all Hutch could think of was what Papa Noir was doing to his partner. Hutch too had felt the air crackle with some unknown, unseen power. It prickled across his skin and raised goose flesh across his belly. This was voodoo at its worse. This was no cheap sham of a love potion, or mild hex. This was the real, dark, evil thing and Hutch was powerless to stop it. Once before Starsky had been taken over by the mind tricks of some deranged hypnotist. When he had finally recovered, the doctor had said he had succumbed because of the brunet's terrible experiences at the hands of the Vietnamese army and not some flawed weakness on Starsky's part. Now Papa Noir was again playing on that experience and those memories and once again, Starsky's damaged psyche was bowing to external forces beyond his control.

Slowly Papa Noir rose from his chanting over the potion. He lifted the ruby red, viscous fluid into the air so that it caught the light from the candle around and turned to Starsky as the brunet's breath seemed to leave him.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

'It is time Kaleb' Papa Noir whispered into the silent air. The Sheriff loomed out of the shadows and stood by the witch doctor's side as Papa Noir once again lifted Starsky's chin and looked into the brunet's eyes.

'Drink deeply mon cher. Drink deeply and reap the rewards of becoming my servant.'

Starsky felt the remaining shreds of will leaving him as he looked at Papa. The black face; the red teeth... were they really so bad? Would it be so terrible to play along with the man, maybe even stop fighting for a while? The brunet's mind mulled over the thought as Papa Noir's voice rang seductively in his ears and it wasn't until he heard the words "servant" that Starsky really paid attention. Something in that word roused the last vestiges of anger within the cop and Starsky blinked and shook his head.

'I aint no servant' he growled.

'Ah but you will be.'

'Never. I'm a cop an' I'm gonna...'

Papa Noir made a small gesture towards Kaleb, who took a step forwards and back handed Starsky across the face. The blow stung and Starsky tasted the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. He gathered together the blood in his mouth and spat it at Kaleb who grinned and with the flat of his hand, pushed Starsky's forehead backwards so that his head rested against the pillar he was tied to.

Papa Noir raised the jar with his potion towards the sky, made a final incantation over it and poured the thick, sticky liquid into his silver chalice. He stood in front of Starsky and raised the cup to the brunet's lips.

'Drink mon cher and we will have no more of this doubt.'

Starsky clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes, determined not to look, and fearful of the consequences if he did. Papa Noir seemed ready for him. With his free hand, he forced Starsky's eyelids open so that the brunet had no choice but to look directly at the witch doctor.

'Drink' Papa Noir commanded.

The words rang round Starsky's head like he echoes of a chiming bell. They forced him to pay attention and they scared him. Drink. Such a small word and yet it would mean the end of Starsky as he knew himself.

The pressure on the brunet's forehead mounted and still Starsky managed to keep his mouth closed as the cold silver chalice pushed against his lips. He wouldn't drink, he told himself and the voice in his head was shaky, scared. He wouldn't drink because he was terrified that if he did, he would be lost. To hell with all the conversations he and Hutch had had in the past about just how gullible Starsky could be. This was the real deal and as Starsky stole a glance past the witch doctor, he could see real fear in Hutch's eyes too. The blond was shaking his head emphatically and yelling past the gag in his mouth although nothing but muffled sounds escaped him.

Fine. Hutch was obviously as rattled by this as Starsky was, and that was the fuel the brunet needed to fight on. He needed Hutch to be strong. Starsky needed the blond cop to keep his wits about him because if he, Starsky, was to lose it, Hutch was his only hope of escape for the both of them. There was also something terrible about the fear in his partner's crystal blue eyes. Hutch was always the calm one. He was always the one who sat down and thought through a problem whilst Starsky preferred action over consideration. Starsky hated to see the fear in Hutch's eyes. He hated to be the one to have put the fear there to begin with and he resolved that he would need to keep it together for the both of them. Starsky broke eye contact with Hutch and looked away. If Hutch had to witness this ceremony, then at least he wouldn't have to witness the terror in Starsky's own eyes.

'Drink and become mine, mon cher' Papa Noir hissed and this time, Kaleb pinched Starsky's nose, cutting off the brunet's airway so that finally he had to open his mouth to take a breath. It was all Papa Noir needed and swiftly, he poured some of the bloody potion into Starsky's mouth.

The tang of copper was so strong it made the brunet choke and as soon as the witch doctor had finished pouring, Starsky spat the liquid out onto the floor of the barn. Papa Noir shook his head.

'Pourquoi vous ne le rendez pas facile? Why don't you make this easy on yourself?' The witch doctor looked genuinely saddened and this time, as he forced Starsky's mouth open and poured in more of the potion, he put his hand over Starsky's mouth and punched him in the stomach so that the brunet had little choice but to swallow or pass out. Papa Noir stepped back and placed the chalice on the black cloth on the hay bale. Kaleb too took a step back so that Starsky stood alone, bound to the pillar with his head hanging, panting, as he assimilated what had just happened.

The bloody mixture tasted both salty and sweet and the viscosity of the potion made him sick to his stomach. The liquid seemed to burn a trail down Starsky's guts and into his stomach and for a second he thought he would truly throw up onto the floor. Maybe that would have been a better idea and yet as he stood, bound to the pillar, Starsky felt an unimaginably strong urge to look up at Papa Noir.

He fought it. God how Starsky fought that urge. Deep down, he knew that his was it. He'd drunk the potion and now he could feel the witch doctor watching him. It was as though Papa Noir was inside his head, rummaging through Starsky's thoughts like an old lady at a table top sale looking for those things she wanted and discarding the rest. The feeling was at once abhorrent and also oddly comforting. Why had he been afraid of Papa? Surely he'd made a real error of judgement because all he now felt from the witch doctor was love and protection – something he'd only ever felt once before in his life from...from...

The name was on the tip of his tongue and yet it was so difficult to remember with everything going on in his head. He'd felt those same feelings of safety when he was with...

'Hutch' Starsky cried out. His voice failed him and with his last ounce of strength Starsky looked past Papa Noir directly at his partner. 'Help me' the brunet whispered before instantly forgetting why he needed the help.

Hutch raged against his bonds, desperate to get to Starsky. The anger he'd seen in his partner's eyes had gone, faded away before his eyes and at first it had been replaced by fear. That fear had clutched at Hutch's own heart and the blond had longed to sink his fist into Papa Noir's face and yank his buddy from the shaman's grasp. This was worse than any horror film the blond had ever watched. In the films, the hero always ended up getting away and saving the day. For a while, Hutch had seriously thought that he would be able to take Starsky away, break whatever hold Papa Noir had had over him, and then they would head for the nearest Federal office and report their kidnapping. It was only when Papa Noir produced the potion and forced his partner to drink that Hutch's hope disappeared at about the same time as the fear disappeared from Starsky's eyes. The dark, stormy indigo blues had somehow relaxed and become dreamy, almost glassy and Starsky's last words echoed around Hutch's head.

"Help me" the brunet had whispered but for once, Hutch had no idea how he was going to do that, bound and gagged as he was.

Starsky felt light – almost weightless. He floated on a cushion of soft clouds with not a care in the world. It was only when he tried to think that the pain returned, lancing through his head and chest like a white hot knife and the only way to stop the pain was to turn his attention back to Papa Noir because Papa would take away the pain and return him to the comfortable place. Starsky stood with head hanging, sweat dripping from his chin as though he'd run a marathon. He was exhausted and yet, each time he looked at the shaman, he felt elated. Papa Noir would look after him. Papa Noir would...No! He needed to get away from the witch doctor, he needed to take Hutch and go...he needed to... Another shaft of pain hit him and Starsky lifted his head and cried out, his eyes darting between Hutch and Papa Noir.

'Make it stop' he hissed, his eyes narrowing against the sensation. 'Please...make it stop.'

Hutch pulled once more at his bonds, blood trickling down his wrists from the torn skin. He yelled past the gag in his mouth until his throat was raw, but it was Papa Noir who took a step closer to Starsky and gently stroked a hand down the brunet's cheek. The pain lifted instantly and panting, Starsky looked up, voluntarily seeking out Papa's eyes.

'Is that better mon cher?'

Starsky nodded weakly. 'Thank you' he whispered as he leaned his head back against the pillar.

The witch doctor picked up the twisted silver blade again and this time, he walked behind Starsky and slit the bonds that held him to the pillar. The brunet's hands fell to his sides, the blood returning to his fingers in a burning hot rush and yet the pain was nothing. Papa was pleased with him and as the ropes around his feet were cut too, Starsky took a step closer to the shaman, feeling some unseen, unexplained connection with the strange looking man.

Papa Noir smiled encouragingly. 'You can take off his gag now' he told Kaleb, nodding at Hutch. The Sheriff nodded reluctantly. He knelt by Hutch's side and savagely twisted Hutch's head sideways so that he could slit the dusty dirty sacking at the back of Hutch's head. The blond spat out the fabric, coughing and spitting onto the floor. Hutch's mouth felt as dry as sandpaper and it took him a moment to gather enough saliva to form his lips into words.

'Bastard. What the hell have you done to him?' he snapped.

Papa Noir looked innocently at the blond. 'You were here, mon ami. You saw the whole thing. I hardly laid a finger on him.'

'You poisoned him...or at least you've drugged him. Is that how you get your power? You have to drug your victims?'

'Does he look like a victim to you? Does he look like I am forcing him to do anything he doesn't want to do?'

'He looks like he hasn't a fuckin' clue where he is. Starsk? Starsky...talk to me buddy.'

Starsky's glassy stare looked past the witch doctor and fell on Hutch. It never crossed the brunet's mind that Hutch was tied tightly to a cartwheel and neither did he think for a minute of releasing his partner, but deep down inside the brunet something stirred and he inhaled sharply. Papa Noir looked at his servant and clicked his hands in front of Starsky's eyes.

'Silence' he whispered and immediately Starsky's mind went blank and he closed his mouth. It wasn't that his voice was taken from him, but more that he forgot instantly what he had wanted to say.

'Let him speak. Starsk! Talk to me buddy' Hutch urged.

'Do you still think that you can take him from me? Do you still think your relationship is stronger than mine?'

'I never relied on blood and god knows what to do my work for me. We're friends...closer'n friends.'

'Ahh...you are lovers!'

You're insane! We're partners. Cop partners with an emphasis on the "cop". You've kidnapped two cops. That's a federal offence, as is assaulting an officer.'

Papa Noir turned a serene face to Hutch. 'Assault? As you clearly saw, I never laid a finger on him, and he certainly isn't complaining now.'

'But he's drugged!'

'As you so callously said, voodoo is so much mumbo jumbo. If it's so crazy, I give you the chance to take him away from me. I hold my end of the deal, but you should know the way he thinks of me now.'

At a signal from the shaman, Clyde and Jed emerged from the shadows and cut the bonds that held Hutch to the wheel. Grasping an arm each, they hauled the blond to his feet where he stood swaying between them. Hutch's hands felt as though they'd been plunged into boiling water and the skin around his wrists was bloody and torn and yet he resisted the urge to rub them as he glared at Papa Noir.

'You lay one more finger on him and so help me...'

The witch doctor laughed out loud. 'A finger? I don't even need that. Observe.' Papa turned back to Starsky who had been waiting passively by his side while he had conversed with Hutch. The witch doctor raised his hand and passed it over the brunet's face and neck.

'Choke' he whispered and immediately Starsky felt unseen hands around his neck, forcing the air from his lungs. He couldn't breathe...couldn't catch a breath to feed his starved lungs past the terrible pressure around his neck and Starsky clawed at the unseen hands that threatened to suffocate him. He managed to raise his eyes to Papa Noir, questioning why? What had he done to displease his new friend...master... In the background he could hear Hutch's voice yelling and yet he still looked to Papa Noir for salvation. With that one look immediately the witch doctor snapped his fingers and the invisible hands disappeared. Starsky bent double, inhaling deep lungfuls of air as he fought to get his breath back and Papa Noir waited.

'Fine, you made your point. So you can hurt him. Is that what you mean by caring for him?' Hutch put as much contempt into his voice as he could muster although he felt shaken to the core by the demonstration he'd just seen. Shit, this guy was powerful!

'But I can do so much more than that. Regardez.'

This time, Papa backed Starsky up against the pillar once more. With the harsh wood at his back once again, Starsky waited obediently, hands at his side. Papa leaned in towards him and whispered words into his ear. The words were like a cool spring breeze playing over Starsky's overheated and tortured body and the brunet relaxed back against the wooden post. The witch doctor took a step back from the brunet and passed a hand over Starsky's chest raising goose flesh over the brunet's skin. The hand continued lower, brushing with a feather light touch against Starsky's groin. Immediately it became apparent from the tightness of Starsky's jeans that Papa Noir could bring other things apart from pain and this really freaked Hutch out. Starsky's body shuddered and his lips parted as he gave a low moan, his eyes closed and his head resting back against the pillar. Starsky's hands clawed at the wood behind him, but this time with ecstasy rather than pain and his whole body shook. Papa clicked his fingers once more and the sensations left Starsky gasping, feeling as though he had missed the climax of a lifetime.

The blond cop struggled wildly against Clyde and Jed. 'You slimy no good bastard. Leave him alone. Don't lay one more finger on him or I'm gonna break 'em all, one by one. You said you'd let us go, so let us go huh? Or are ya as yellow bellied as ya look?'

Papa grinned briefly at Hutch. 'As you desire' he hissed as he closed in on Starsky one last time. As Hutch watched he seemed to loom over the brunet, caressing his face and neck and then, just as Hutch thought he was done, the witch doctor leaned in and pressed his lips to the crook of Starsky's neck. The brunet let out a shuddering low moan and his body went rigid as Papa Noir's teeth worried at the flesh of Starsky's neck and when the shaman broke the forced embrace, Hutch could clearly see a bleeding wound where Papa Noir had bitten deeply into the olive toned skin.

Papa Noir stepped back and wiped his hand over his blood stained lips. 'Slit the blond one's wrist and then let them both go' he muttered. 'Let's see how the gators enjoy blond for breakfast.'

Kaleb took up the knife and as Clyde held out Hutch's right hand and sliced cleanly from wrist to elbow on the inside. Immediately blood started to flow from the deep wound although, in shock as he was, Hutch felt little pain. A moment later, Papa pushed Starsky towards Hutch and stood back.

'Return to me soon mon cher. You should know mon ami. The further he goes from me, the weaker he will become. As you watch the fever start...the sweats...and the longing to return see then if you can truly keep my servant from me' he said softly as Hutch grabbed Starsky by the wrist and staggered from the barn. Papa stood back and watched them go.

'You have one hour before we send in the dogs' he called after the blond and his dazed partner. 'After that, he will be mine again.'


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Hutch pulled Starsky from the barn by the arm. The brunet seemed to hang back, stunned, spacey and off balance. He said nothing as Hutch pulled harder on his arm and pushed him outside and into the darkness beyond the golden candle glow within.

'Starsk, are ya with me buddy?' Hutch asked quietly. 'How're ya doin'?'

There was no immediate answer from the brunet. He stood with his back to the barn as if undecided whether he preferred to be inside or out and it wasn't until Hutch tried again that he got a response.

'It's over Starsk, it's over. We just gotta get away, huh? Can you do that?'

Starsky seemed to shake himself from his trance. 'Away? Oh, yeah, just get me away from these crazies, huh?' The words sounded good, but here was little conviction to them and Hutch looked sharply at his partner. Starsky looked pale in the darkness of the swamp and a dark patch showed at the crook of his neck where Papa Noir had bitten him. The curly haired cop's shirt was still open at the front showing the long slash that the witch doctor had made earlier. In parts it continued to seep blood although Starsky seemed unaware of it.

Hutch's own arm hurt like hell. He could feel the blood oozing from the long deep cut and trickling down his hand to drip from his finger tips and yet oddly, Starsky had said nothing about it. Usually the brunet would have been all over his friend like a mother hen and yet Starsky seemed distant, his mind far away.

Hutch dragged his own mind away from worrying about Starsky. There would be time for that later, but Papa Noir had told them they had one hour to put as much distance as possible between them and Kaleb and his men before they came after him and Starsky with the dogs. Although Hutch hadn't seen any bloodhounds, or indeed heard any baying, he had no reason to believe that the Sheriff would not have tracker dogs somewhere around. They needed to get going, now.

The warm, foetid air of the swamp hit him as he stood in the shadow of the building and he looked around. Both Hutch and Starsky had been unconscious when they'd been brought to the barn and it struck the blond for the first time that he had no idea where they were, or indeed how far they were from the small town of Lapetite. Which direction should they go in? It was a given that Kaleb, Clyde and Jed would know the ground far better than he and Starsky and Hutch had little time to study the lay of the land.

Hutch recalled the only thing that he could think of to help in his hellish situation. He'd been an Eagle Scout and he'd tracked and played Hound and Hunted with Mr Hagedoorn, the leader. He recalled the man's words now. Find water boy. Nothing can track you in the water. It hides footsteps and smells and even dogs can't track through a stream or a river.

The blond cop looked around him, his eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness. There was a crescent moon and enough stars to make some light above the cypress trees but Hutch knew that once inside the swamp proper, there would be too much cover from the Spanish moss hanging from the canopy for there to be enough light to be of use.

Oddly, Starsky stood quietly, as if waiting for Hutch to make the first move. In every other occasion, the brunet would have been the first to act now and ask questions later but Starsky's mind was still trying to process what had happened to him. Whilst in the barn and at the mercy of the witch doctor, Starsky had watched his body move as though it didn't belong to him. He knew his arms and legs moved, he felt himself walk behind Papa Noir and yet his brain seemed to register none of it, as though he was a puppet whose strings were being pulled by some demonic puppeteer. With distance between him and the Shaman, Starsky felt his will returning to him little by little, although he still felt as though Papa was peering over his shoulder. Starsky shook his head to clear it, but the feeling was so strong that he looked behind him, half expecting the black face with its red teeth to be at his back. He shuddered and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes to make the feeling go away.

'Leave me alone' he whispered into the darkness.

Hutch's gut clenched at the softly spoken, pain filled words. What the hell had Papa Noir done? What hold did he have over Starsky and was it really as unshakable as the bond he thought he had with the brunet?

Time to find out, Hutch thought to himself. No time like the present. 'Are ya with me?' he hissed.

'Uh?' Starsky looked up and his body seemed to relax marginally as he saw his partner in front of him. 'Oh, yeah. Lead on Cochise' Starsky muttered. 'Which way?'

Not enough time for concern now. Hutch would check out his partner later, but he still wanted Starsky to feel that everything was ok. This was just a walk in the park, right? The blond did what he always did with his best buddy. He aimed for sarcasm with a hint of humour. 'You want me to toss a coin?'

Starsky snorted, knowing that Hutch was putting on a show for him and thankful for it. Knowing that Hutch was as rattled as he was did nothing to clear Starsky's head and so he played along for the moment. Deep conversations about what Clyde and Jed had done to them and about what Papa Noir had done to him would come late. For now, Starsky played along. 'Is that the sum total of your boy scout skills?'

'You got a better idea?' Hutch asked. In answer, Starsky fumbled in his jeans pocket and brought out a dime.

'Heads or tails?'

Tails took them roughly north so far as Hutch could tell. As both men started to plunge through the unfamiliar trees it became apparent just how tough the going was going to be. Underfoot the ground was soggy and slippery from the recent storm, the mud clinging to their shoes and the branches from the overhanging vegetation grasping at their clothes. The going was incredibly hard and it was only ten minutes into it that Hutch paused for breath and looked down at his arm. In the darkness the blood pouring from the nine inch slash stained his shirt sleeve, making the gore look inky black and there was enough of it that Hutch immediately knew he was in danger of bleeding to death. That's what Kaleb had planned for all along of course, knowing that without Hutch, Starsky would find his own way back to Papa Noir. Once the brunet became the witch doctor's servant, he would be open for all manner of abuse from anyone who paid Papa enough. Kaleb had missed out on the fun in the barn earlier and Mary Lou was getting too big and too feisty to lie back and shut up, as was Clyde. No, Kaleb needed his gratification from another source and Starsky fit the bill perfectly.

Hutch sank to his knees in the soft mud, clutching at his arm and breathing past the nausea and dizziness that were threatening to black him out. Starsky, who had been following close behind almost tripped over the blond and caught himself on another tree trunk.

'Hutch?'

'S'ok bud. Just needed to catch my breath and...'

'You're bleedin'...bad.'

Hutch looked up into Starsky's face. There was no hint of a joke there, just pure concern as though the brunet hadn't noticed what had gone on in the barn. What else had Starsky "forgotten"?

'It's nothing. Kaleb thought it'd be fun to cut me up some.'

'Let me look.' Starsky squatted down next to his partner and gently took Hutch's arm.

_Leave him to bleed Mon Cher._

The brunet got up quickly and whirled around, expecting to see Papa Noir behind him. The swamp was empty.

'Starsk? What?'

Starsky shook his head. 'I thought...I...nuthin. It's fine. It's...let me see your arm.' The brunet squatted down again.

_Let the gators have him. Let him bleed some more. Vous êtes mon amour. Revenez moi. Come back to me._

The heavily French accented voice sounded loud in Starsky's head sending shivers down his spine. The voice seemed to wrap itself around Starsky like a piece of midnight blue velvet, seductive and calming, with the promise that Papa Noir would take away all Starsky's problems. He ignored it, as best he could. He was putting distance between himself and the witch doctor. He was fighting this...wasn't he?

Starsky took Hutch's arm and gently probed the wound. Hutch hissed in pain as Starsky reached the deepest part of the slash and the brunet looked up. 'Shit Blondie. Why the hell didn't you tell me? Here. Let me bind it up.' Starsky looked around for something he could use and finally shrugged out of his shirt and ripped the cotton into strips, winding them tightly around Hutch's arm. The blond had his eyes closed and his head resting back against the tree and looked ghostly pale in the moonlight. For a moment Starsky thought the worst and gently shook his buddy.

'Hutch? Stay with me huh?'

Hutch opened his eyes and made an attempt at a grin. The blood was already soaking through the makeshift bandage on his arm and he felt dizzy and sick to his stomach, but they'd hardly put any distance between themselves and the barn. With difficulty Hutch levered himself to his feet and tucked his bandaged arm inside his shirt, using it as a sling.

'I'm good. I'm fine' Hutch said as he set off again through the swamp.

'Like hell' Starsky muttered and started to follow behind.

In the dark, the sounds of the surrounding swamp seemed amplified. The insistent croak of the bullfrogs, the cry of the night owls all set the brunet's teeth on edge. His mind took him back almost 10 years to a different swamp and a different country although the danger was the same. Starsky had vowed he would never go back to Vietnam, but this Louisiana swamp was the closest thing to his worst nightmare.

Above all; above the night sounds, Starsky could hear a voice in his head. It called to him seductively. The French accent seemed welcoming, almost as though his best friend was calling him home and several times, the brunet whirled to look behind him, expecting to see Papa Noir striding through the trees. The swamp was always empty, but Starsky's nerves were shredded and a deep throb of pain started up in his guts.

Ahead, Hutch had found one of the many streams that cut through the boggy land. Here, the trees came right down to the slow flowing water's edge, the Spanish moss draping itself into the water. This was what they needed in order to put the dogs off the scent, but this was also where the snapping turtles, alligators and water moccasins hung out. One wrong move in the water, and both Starsky and Hutch would rapidly become ex-detectives.

'We'll follow the stream for a few hundred yards' Hutch whispered. 'Stay close to the middle of the water and watch your step, huh?'

Starsky eyed the stream warily. 'Are there snakes?'

'Um...only tiny ones. They'll be more scared of you than you are of them' Hutch lied valiantly.

'Don't you believe it' Starsky muttered darkly as he followed Hutch down and into the oily, warm water.

The cypress trees hung out over the waterway, their tangled masses of moss blotting out almost all the moonlight from the stream. It was almost pitch black down in the water and although the stream was not deep – maybe two or three feet in parts, the going was tough because there were fallen trunks submerged beneath the surface and invisible until one of the men tripped or fell.

Hutch was weakening fast. He tried to keep his arm out of the water. Alligators had an incredible sense of smell and would home in on the smell of blood from miles around. The blood however continued to seep through the makeshift bandages and with each millilitre gone, the blond felt sicker and more dizzy. Twice he stopped for breath, bending over a branch or rock. Twice, he felt Starsky's hand on his back, rubbing small circles and encouraging him to go on but eventually, Papa Noirs treatment started to get to Starsky too.

He had thought at first that it was just imagination that made him feel hot, feverish and sick to his stomach. The pains in his gut that he'd first thought were just anxiety seemed to amplify as the two men continued to push themselves further from the barn until finally, as Hutch stopped for the third time to catch his breath, Starsky had to stagger a little way from his friend, find a quiet bush and throw up into it. The coppery tang of the blood he'd been forced to drink returned to his tongue so that he scooped handfuls of the warm foetid water and rinsed it around his gums before spitting it back out. His head pounded and his guts were on fire and yet Starsky started to shake, his teeth chattering together as though he was in the Arctic rather than in sub-tropical Louisiana.

The brunet paused, shaking his head against the insistent voice in his head telling him to turn around and return. He felt an almost uncontrollable urge to obey it, somehow knowing that if he did return, the pains and the fever would go away. A vision of Papa Noir holding him and calming him floated before his eyes and Starsky shook his head angrily. He forced himself to his feet and staggered back towards Hutch who seemed collapsed across an overhanging branch. As Starsky got to his friend, he just happened to look upstream...into two bright and unblinking lights floating just above the surface of the water; two piercing bright eyes, luring him on.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Starsky stared, mesmerised by the two bright, unblinking eyes. As he watched, he seemed to see a body behind the eyes – a black body that called to him.

The voice in his head became louder._ Come to me Mon Cher. If I can't have you, then neither can the blond one you call friend._

Starsky took a step forwards. Papa Noir was in front of him! Papa had found them and despite what he'd done to Hutch, he might be the one person who could stop this nightmare. Starsky's tortured mind was torn between asking for help and turning tail to put as much distance as possible between him and Hutch and the shaman. The brunet looked down at his partner. Hutch was slumped in the water, leaning heavily on a half submerged tree trunk. The blond man was soaked to the skin and was nursing his injured arm against his body, but Hutch's eyes were closed and his body shook uncontrollably.

'Hutch?'

There was no answer from the blond, but the voice in his head called louder to Starsky. _Come to me Mon Cher. You know how I can help. Just a few steps more..._

Starsky found his body moving towards the eyes. Better the devil he knew... The eyes watched him impassively as the brunet took another step, and then another faltering step and oddly the eyes didn't blink and no arms appeared to welcome him. Instead Starsky paused, unsure and as he started to move again and strong hand caught him by the wrist.

'What the fuck?'

Starsky turned to see Hutch hanging on to his arm and pulling him away towards the far bank of the stream.

'Back up nice and slow. No sudden moves huh? They're attracted to splashing and thrashing in the water.'

The brunet frowned. 'They?' he whispered.

'Gators. Back up slow and when we get to solid ground, run like hell' Hutch hissed, his voice thin and raw.

The brunet did a double take. Gators? What on earth was Hutch babbling about? Was he delirious? Papa was right there, ready to help. Starsky started to argue. At least with Papa they would be safe for a while, until they could escape again. At least they would be back in the warm, dry barn. He turned to look at the witch doctor... and stared into the eyes of a six foot alligator maybe 10 yards away. The cop froze mid stride, undecided which was the most creepy – the fact that he'd been about to walk right into the jaws of the huge reptile, or the fact that Papa Noir was so much inside his head that the witch doctor could make him do it.

'Hutch, it's a gator. It's a fuckin' alligator!'

'And if we don't get out, we're gonna be supper. C'mon buddy. Nice and slow. No sudden moves huh?' Hutch pulled gently on Starsky's arm and the brunet allowed himself to be guided slowly back to the bank of the stream. The two men scrambled up the slippery, muddy bank, grabbing at Cypress roots and hanging moss to help them. They reached solid ground just as the gator made its move with explosive speed and the two cops turned tail and ran. Bushes and small trees grabbed at them as they plunged through the swamp. Roots tripped them and low hanging branches whipped at their faces but it wasn't until they'd put a half a mile between them and the gator that Hutch's strength finally gave up and he sank to his knees on the soft earth, his breath sobbing in his throat.

The speed of their escape had done nothing to help the blond cop's blood loss. The bandages around his arm were sodden and black in the moonlight and blood seeped down his hand and stained his finger tips. Hutch's vision had narrowed as he'd plunged onwards through the undergrowth until now he saw the world through a red haze, speckled with black dots. His breath had almost given out so that he had to fight for every gram of oxygen and his limbs were as heavy as lead. It didn't take his medical training to tell him he'd lost a dangerous amount of blood. His own body was telling the story all too clearly. His heart pounded in his chest, he felt breathless and light headed and he found it so tough to think straight. Added to his worries was his partner's utter silence.

A couple of times during their flight. Hutch had paused and looked behind him to see Starsky way back, looking over his shoulder. At first, Hutch had thought that Starsky was merely watching his partner's back, but as they continued to run, it became clear that the brunet was sick, and getting sicker. Starsky continually looked over his shoulder as though he expected to see someone or something coming up behind him. A couple of times, Hutch had seen him clutch at his belly and double over and once he'd seen Starsky throw up by the side of the narrow path. Now, the brunet sank to his knees beside Hutch, his head hanging low.

'Starsk...'

'I'm here buddy.'

'You ok?'

'Sure.'

'Liar.'

'You don't look so hot.'

'I'm fine.'

'Now who's a liar?'

Starsky managed to smile past the gnawing pains in his gut. He'd thrown up so many times he'd lost count and he still couldn't shake the feeling that Papa Noir was following him through the swamp. It was as though the witch doctor was inside his head and the further Starsky got from the barn and the shaman, the more he had a compulsion to turn and head back towards Papa. The more he tried to fight the feeling, the stronger it became...and the sicker the brunet felt.

Hutch saw the troubled look on his partner's face and hated to add to Starsky's burdens. He knew how creaped out he had felt in the barn and could only imagine how Starsky must feel, having been the centre of the black magic ceremony. But he needed to talk because Hutch knew that he had little time left before he blacked out from blood loss, and he needed to make the curly haired cop understand that Papa Noir was not their saviour.

The blond cop collapsed back against the trunk of the closest tree. God how good it felt just to close his eyes. Maybe a little doze and he'd feel better? Hutch closed his eyes, feeling the world receding from him like a fade out in a movie. So calm...so peaceful...so...

Wake up Hutchinson! The stern voice inside Hutch's own head yelled at him. Hutch opened his eyes slowly and looked up into Starsky's. The indigo blue pools seemed to swim before his eyes and cloud so that, with growing horror, Hutch watched a body form inside those eyes and Papa Noir looked out at him from behind Starsky's own eyes. The shaman seemed to be looking straight at Hutch and finally Papa Noir pointed and started to laugh. Hutch closed his own eyes and shuddered.

'Noooo' he whispered.

'Huh? Hutch? Talk to me buddy.' Starsky's voice sounded distant and for the first time ever Hutch didn't want to look into his fiends face again. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. For both Hutch and Starsky, it was a given that if either of them were hurt, they could derive at least some comfort from the other man, often by nothing more than a look. It was as though Papa Noir seemed instinctively to know how to cut off Hutch's line of comfort and the blond felt so alone and vulnerable that for a second he even distrusted Starsky.

'Hutch...talk to me' Starsky whispered again, his hand reaching up to smooth away a sweat soaked flaxen bang from his buddy's forehead.

Hutch gathered his thoughts. He was dying, he knew that, but there were things that needed to be said – things Starsky might be able to do for him once he'd... the blond shut himself up.

'Starsk...listen t'me. I haven't...got long before...pass out.'

'You'll be fine.'

Hutch managed a weak grin. 'There's more've my blood in the damned swamp than in my body. Listen t'me. Talkin's tough.' Hutch passed to gather his breath. Shit, even talking tired him out.

'Then shut up and rest huh?' Starsky's voice sounded desperate and that hurt Hutch more than his own impending demise.

'S up t'you. You gotta get help...not him...not Noir huh? Understand?'

'Sure. Why the hell would I go back there?' Starsky asked, although even as he said the words, he felt a yearning to be back with the witch doctor again.

'Don't know what he did...he's dangerous...need help from...' Hutch's eyes closed and his arm fell to the ground, limply.

'Hutch? Hutchinson, don't you fuckin' leave me now, d'ya hear me?' Starsky said softly, his hand brushing Hutch's forehead gently. The skin felt cool, almost cold in the oppressive heat of the swamp and there was a fine sheen of sweat across Hutch's forehead.

Hutch's eyes fluttered open and with a titanic effort, the blond managed to smile up at his partner. 'Get help huh?'

'Does it hurt? Are you in pain? What can I... Hutch? HUTCH!' Starsky backed away for a moment as the blond's body seemed to sag, boneless against the tree. In the dark, Hutch's face was ghostly pale and reflexively Starsky took Hutch's wrist and felt for a pulse. It took a while, but it was there. Fast – too fast and staccato like a bird trapped in a cage, its wings hammering against the bars.

The brunet sat back on his heels and wiped a grimy hand over his face and through his curls. He hadn't even thought much about Hutch until now. In all the time they'd been thrashing through this godforsaken swamp, he'd been so preoccupied with Papa Noir that he'd almost ignored Hutch and his injuries. Now Starsky raked his mind for scraps of first aid knowledge to come to him. They'd all done it – all the cops, even basic life support, and they continued to have refresher courses, but here, in the swamp with the shaman still yelling at him inside his head Starsky found he could hardly think.

_In cases of severe bleeding, don't unwrap the wound, just put another layer of bandage over the top and if its a limb, try to raise it above the level of the heart._ Sergeant Gutterman's voice penetrated Starsky's head.

'Fine, wrap another layer of bandage. Sure. Everyone has an endless supply of bandages in the back of beyond' Starsky muttered to himself. The only thing he could think to use was Hutch's own shirt, Starsky having cut his own into ribbons to bandage Hutch to begin with. Carefully and with difficulty. Starsky managed to get the shirt from Hutch's limp body. Once or twice the blond moaned softly, but his eyes remained closed and his body heat seemed to leach away into the surrounding boggy ground.

Talking to his friend all the time, Starsky ripped the shirt into strips and bound that too around Hutch's arm. At the end of the process, he took his own belt from his jeans, slipped a loop around Hutch's wrist and fastened the other end of the belt around a branch above the blond's head. It looked too much like he'd restrained Hutch for Starsky to be pleased by the arrangement, but it was the only way Starsky could think of to keep his partner's arm higher than his heart. Maybe, just maybe the bleeding would slow.

In the meantime, Starsky needed to find help, and soon. The brunet could feel his will being sapped away. Without Hutch to ground him, Papa Noir's voice was sounding louder and louder in his head.

'Revenu à moi, mon cher. Come back to me.'

Starsky shook his head, clutching at his temples. 'Shuddup' he muttered. 'Get the hell away from me. Leave me alone.'

'But you are mine, mon cher. We could be happy together. I could make you happy. Do not fight this, you belong to me.'

'No. Nooo' Starsky yelled, lurching to his feet. 'I belong to...to...I belong to no-one' the brunet moaned into the dark. 'Not listening. Not listening. Thinking of sumthin else. Escape. Need to find help...need to...Oh Christ!' the pains in Starsky's stomach redoubled their efforts and the brunet crashed to his knees, clawing at his guts. Slowly he toppled onto his side and rolled onto his back, his knees drawn up to his chest as Starsky fought the searing burning pains in his stomach.

'You won't win...won't win' he gasped into the darkness.

'No? I can go on forever, mon cher. Can you?' Papa Noir's voice shrieked into his ear. 'Rest. Let me take care of you.'

The voice turned from threatening to seductive and Starsky fought hard not to listen. 'No, noooo' he moaned again and struggled to his feet. With a backwards glace at Hutch's unconscious body, Starsky started to run, one hand still clutching at his head whilst the other fended off the branches that whipped at his face.

The going was tough and the first pearly light of dawn was staining the sky when the brunet collapsed by the side of the small path, unable to push himself another yard. He'd run and run although whether it was running for help or running away from the voice in his head Starsky no longer knew. He was exhausted and he'd fought the pains on his gut for so long that the last time he'd thrown up, the product had been blood stained and coppery against his tongue. The voice in his head was still as loud, but in Starsky's weakened state, he could no longer drown it out and now he fell to his knees, his head hanging almost to the ground.

'Not goin' back...not goin'...not listening' the brunet muttered over and again. 'Not...'

Starsky stopped suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he looked sideways...at the two feet on the path at the side of him.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The sounds of the swamp receded until there was silence, time stretching until each second seemed like a millennium. Starsky froze where he was on the ground. Papa Noir had found him and he didn't know whether to be relieved that his "protector" was there, or whether to turn tail and run. The voice in his head was still there, warm and velvety seductive but now edged with something else. Malice? Or was it fear? Something Starsky hadn't heard up until now. As the voice got louder and more insistent, the pains in the brunet's body became more intense. He shook, his bones chattering as the fever took him and shook him. His guts seemed to be on fire and he saw the world through a scarlet veil of pain.

The shoes at his side didn't move but finally the brunet forced himself to look up. The black face with its red teeth smiled down at him, although the voice seemed unfamiliar.

'Are you sick?'

'You know I am.'

'Are you lost?'

Starsky backed up, not wanting to look into those hypnotic black eyes again. He still had enough of his wits about him to know that if he was to look into Papa's eyes one more time he would be lost forever, and Hutch along with him. Only the thought of the blond, bleeding and unconscious drove Starsky on and he stared resolutely at the ground, swallowing down the fear that threatened to swamp him. He was a streetwise cop, running the roughest of zones in the heart of Bay City. He'd faced down machine gun wielding flakes, madmen with bombs, knife throwing hoodlums and he'd never once flinched. He'd survived torture and incarceration in Vietnam. He'd even survived being poisoned and had laughed about it later. Why was it then that a single man could instil such fear into a being?

'Get the hell away from me' he ground out. 'Leave me alone. I...oh gods...' Another pain assaulted him, this time tightening like a band around his chest as the voice inside his head soothed him and taunted him at one and the same time.

'This would never have happened Mon Cher. I would never have hurt you if you hadn't left with the blond one. Come back to me. Return to me and I will make it go away. You need rest Mon Cher. Rest with me. Come back to me.'

Starsky clutched at his head, shaking it slowly from side to side. 'Nooo. Get the fuck away from me. Not listenin'...not listenin' to ya. Noo.'

The shoes next to him moved and Starsky flinched trying to back away from the inevitable. A hand touched his back but instead of a searing pain, the hand seemed to bring with it cool and calm. Another one of Papa's tricks! Starsky backed away, still refusing to look up into those malevolent eyes.

'Let me help you.'

'You won't help. You killed Hutch. He's...he's not dead. Not dead. He's... I won't tell ya. Never. Won't tell. He's hurt. Bad. But he aint dead. You didn't...you won't kill...he's...'

Again the hand touched him as the shoes moved. Papa Noir seemed to be kneeling next to him and Starsky closed his eyes tight. It was a trick. He'd seen it a thousand times. He'd seen it in 'Nam. A good guard and a bad guard. Treat the prisoner mean and then send in someone with a small kindness. Odds were that eventually the prisoner would talk. But not Starsky. He wouldn't talk. He wouldn't look. Papa wouldn't trick him that easily.

The hand moved up his back until he could feel cool fingers brushing his face.

'You're hurting. Let me help.'

The voice sounded different now. It wasn't inside his head any more, although there was a distant shout of surprise and anger. It surprised the brunet and he paid attention to the voice at his side. How could Papa be inside his head and by his side as well? Was it another trick?

'Back off' Starsky ground out.

'I only want to help. I won't hurt you.' This time, the hand touched his face and held his chin, pulling his head around until he felt he was on eye level with evil.

'Nooo' Starsky moaned, feeling his iron will seeping away. 'Noo, I...'

'I won't hurt you. I promise.' The voice sounded so sweet, so innocent that in surprise, the cop's eyes opened and he looked directly into the eyes of a woman. She smiled at him and stroked the matted curls away from his forehead, but as she looked into the handsome man's deep, troubled indigo eyes she saw someone else lurking in the darkness. As she looked she saw a black face, red teeth grinning at her and she hissed and turned away.

'You need help' the woman said simply. 'Will you let me?'

Starsky rubbed his hands over his eyes. It was a trick. Papa Noir was using mind tricks again and he was gonna fight him all the way.

'You're not real' he said.

'I'm here to help, if you'll let me.'

'No...'s a trick. Back off.'

'Are you in pain?' the woman asked although she could see the truth from the man's sweat slick face and the lines engraved into his olive toned skin.

Starsky looked harder at the woman. Before he'd seen the body but there was an overlying image of Papa Noir and he'd been convinced that the shaman had found him and was about to take him back to the barn. Now, Starsky looked harder at the face next to him. The woman held still whilst the brunet's eyes seemed to take in every detail of her face. Starsky saw a sweet, oval face, devoid of any makeup. Hair the colour of a chestnut framed the face and fell in a heavy curtain down the woman's back to her waist. Her eyes were the colour of the forest, deep, deep green with flecks of gold glinting in the growing morning light and her smile, when she relaxed, felt to Starsky as though he'd been wrapped in a mink blanket.

How could this be Papa Noir? Surely even the evil witch doctor couldn't be so adept at hiding his true self. This woman seemed to radiate good and Starsky relaxed marginally.

As he looked up at her face, the pains in his chest returned and an angry voice sounded in his head again. 'Come back to me, Mon Cher. Ignore the temptress, she is nothing. You belong to me and I will have my servant back. Return now.' The pains redoubled and Starsky clutched at his head and chest, not knowing which hurt the most. He was hurt, he was scared and he felt as though he was losing his mind. The brunet let out a long, agonised groan and bowed his head to the ground, rocking himself backwards and forwards to try to get some relief. The woman shuffled closer.

'You need help' she said. 'Let me. Let me help you. Let me take away some of your pain.' She put her arms around Starsky's body and helped him kneel upright. She held Starsky's face between her cool hands and looked directly into his eyes.

This time, Starsky didn't flinch. There was something about the woman's gaze that was so different from Papa Noir's. Whereas looking into the shaman's eyes had felt as though he was about to fall down into a bottomless pit, this woman's eyes held light, and freedom and hope. Gently, she rubbed at Starsky's temples with her thumbs, massaging at the tight muscles and when she saw that the brunet had stilled a little, she let go with one hand and started to describe complicated and beautiful patterns in the air in front of Starsky's face. Her hand seemed to take on a life of it's own as it danced it's elegant, mystical dance in front of her patient. At the same time, she seemed to be whispering words, soft and almost inaudible, her face intent on her work.

Starsky watched her hand, feeling the other on his temple, easing away the pain and the tension whilst inside his head, Papa Noir's voice screamed at him to listen and to ignore the woman. The brunet swallowed, trying hard to ignore the voice. It sounded desperate and angry and the more the woman muttered her words over Starsky, the louder the voice got until it filled his head with noise, like listening to a fire alarm going off inside his head. The noise was intolerable and Starsky moaned again, unable to keep quiet.

'Hurts...' he mumbled. 'Make it stop.'

The woman leaned close to him until he could feel her breath on his face. 'You've been bespelled. Let me help you.' Without pausing, she leaned in and kissed Starsky softly on the lips. Her mouth tasted like wine and strawberries and cotton candy and instantly the voice inside his head stopped, stunned by the touch. The woman drew away long enough to look into Starsky's eyes.

'Trust me' she said softly and kissed him again, this time harder and more insistently so that despite his pain, Starsky's body reacted and he reached for her slender waist. Papa Noir gave one final screech of anger, sending another whiplash of pain through the brunet's guts and then Starsky felt only silence as the world spun around him and he felt the soft, wet ground come up to meet him.

A stiff, wide leather collar encircled his neck, the chain on the D ring at the front pulled taunt and fastened to the chair in front of him. Starsky was knelt on the hard floor of the barn, secured to Papa Noir's chair by his neck as the witch doctor ran his hands through Starsky's curls. With his hands tied firmly behind his back, the brunet had no chance to fend off the queue of men lining up to take pleasure from him. As Papa watched, another unknown man paid the shaman a $20 bill and unzipped his pants. Starsky tried to back away, sickened as the man advanced on him and forced himself into the cop's mouth. In his head, Starsky screamed as the violations continued. Another man came up behind him. This time a $100 changed hands and the brunet felt hands haul him to his feet and start to tear at his jeans. Rough hands stripped him as he fought and kicked and for his troubles Starsky received the slash of a whip across his back. His spine bowed and he let out a yell of anger and pain.

The yell tailed off into a moan of forlornness and the hand in his curls continued to stroke. Starsky screamed again and tried to pull away but his body felt heavy and his head ached viciously.

'No more...get the fuck away...no...please' he moaned, angry at himself for the pleading in his voice. 'Noooo.'

'Sssh cher...sssh,'

'Not your cher...let me...killed hutch...no, not killed. Hutch...HUTCHHHHHH' Starsky tried to twist his head away from the hand stroking his hair. The hand was gentle, caressing him more than causing pain, but he was still in the grip of the witch doctor and Papa Noir was as slippery as an eel.

'It's ok, you're safe. Sssh, try not to fret.'

Papa's voice seemed to have changed. It held a sweet note to it and the hand did not seem to be the hand of a man. The facts slowly penetrated Starsky's brain so that eventually the nightmares receded and he brunet stopped his thrashing. Cautiously, Starsky opened his eyes, dreading the sight of the barn and the line of men all waiting to pay for the privilege of demeaning him. Instead, when he did peep out from beneath his eyelashes, Starsky saw the same woman he'd seen in the swamp.

She smiled at him. 'It was a nightmare. A projection of the Black One's thoughts. You're safe now, for a while.'

Starsky closed his eyes feeling tired but also relieved. 'Black One?' he whispered.

'You might know him by Papa Noir? I saw him, in your eyes. You've met him already.'

'Uh huh. Bastard. He...there was this freaky...'

'He bespelled you. He wants you – to own you. You must have angered him some.'

Weakly Starsky snorted. 'Ya think?'

'You should sleep. It will help you regain some strength. I can only keep him out of your head for a while. After that, you'll need to fight him yourself.'

Starsky closed his eyes. 'Who are you?' he asked, his voice weak and husky and his body betraying him by tugging him back towards sleep.

'A friend. Rest. Here, drink this, it will help.' The woman held a cup of a hot liquid to Starsky's lips. The brunet smelled liquorice and molasses with overtones of mud and leaves. His nose wrinkled but he took a sip.

'What is it? It tastes gross.'

'A tea. It'll help you to close your mind to the Black One and it'll also help you rest.'

'I can't rest. Hutch. I need to get back to Hutch.'

'Who's Hutch? You called for him in your fever.'

'My partner...Hutch. He's hurt. Bad. Papa Noir... cut him up. He's...he's...' Starsky felt the first tendrils of sleep curl around him. Telling the woman about Hutch was important – more important than fighting the witch doctor. Hutch was dying and he needed to get back to him.

The brunet started to struggle out of the bed he found himself in. The woman held him down. 'Where are you going?'

'Can't rest...Hutch' Starsky whispered, the soporific effects of the tea beginning to claim him.

'I'll find him. I'll help.'

'How? You don't know him. Tried to help...I tried to...' Starsky mumbled, fighting the effects of the tea.

The woman leaned over Starsky and placed her hands on either side of his face. 'Look at me and think of him' she ordered, staring deep into the stormy indigo pools and Starsky did as he'd been told, the memory of Hutch, weak and close to death burning a hole in his soul.

'A blond man, bleeding, but still alive' the woman said softly as she let go of Starsky and sat back. 'I saw him in your eyes. Don't worry. I'll find him, but you must rest. You'll need your strength to fight the Black One. Sleep now and let me find your Hutch.'

Starsky closed his eyes, so weary he could hardly breathe.

'Who are you?' he mumbled tiredly.

In reply, the woman kissed him on the forehead and stood up. 'Just someone who wants to help. My name is Michelle.'


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Hutch drifted in and out of consciousness. For the most part, he willed himself to remain awake, knowing that the smell of blood would bring critters of all kinds to his side. He dimly remembered Starsky talking to him. He thought he remembered the brunet bandaging his arm again and now it hung above him, suspended by his wrist. Hutch snorted softly, unsurprised at his partner's ingenuity. If only it had stopped the bleeding it would have been a perfect solution. The flow had slowed, for sure, but the bright red gore still trickled down Hutch's bare chest and side where it was feasted on by what seemed like the whole Louisiana population of flies and bugs. Had Hutch had the energy, he would have twitched or shuddered or done something to make them leave him alone. As it was, the blond was so weak that even that one small movement was too much to contemplate, his entire energy focused on the need to keep his eyes open.

How long had it been since Starsky had taken off? And in which direction had the brunet gone. Hutch had tried to get through to his friend that returning to Papa Noir was not the best idea in the world, but as the witch doctor and his motley crew were the only human beings Hutch had Starsky had seen for a while, it seemed inevitable that Starsky would once more fall under Papa's spell – which left Hutch where exactly?

The blond cop's mind wandered. A while ago he'd been in a similar situation. Not dicing with black magic and voodoo, of course, but sick and injured and alone. That time, his beloved battered LTD had been forced off the road and had plunged down a ravine, trapping him by the leg beneath the tangled metal. On that occasion Hutch had at least had a radio in his car to listen to, even if listening to Minnie's voice, so close and yet so far away had been like torture. Then, Hutch had been trapped in the hot, dry Californian hills, at the mercy of the sun and dehydration. He'd spent two long days trapped there with only Colonel Sonny for company. The shell shocked veteran had eventually helped Starsky locate Hutch, and the brunet discovered his injured buddy in the nick of time. At the hospital the doctors told the brunet that another three or four hours out there beneath the car would have finished Hutch off and that the toxic shock from the build up of toxins behind the injury still could. For almost a week Hutch had battled his way back to consciousness. He had fluid forced back into his body, his broken leg was set and his internal injuries dealt with and when he finally emerged from his hellish ordeal, Starsky was right by his side. The physical scars healed well. Hutch was fit and healthy before the accident and looked after his body and so recovery was fairly straight forward. The mental scars however, remained with him to this day.

Hutch had always felt ambiguous towards human company. He could take it or leave it, enjoying both sociable parties on the beach, or taking himself off into the hills for peace and quiet. That was until the accident. Since then, the blond had never once elected to be alone for any length of time. Sure, he went back to Venice Place at night, locked his front door and spent time with his plants, but he'd never gone off on one of his retreats. Nights were the worst for Hutch. There were times when he awoke in a cold sweat after dreaming of being trapped again only to find the bedclothes wrapped around his legs, or the pillow over his head. On those occasions going back to sleep was impossible, the chance of returning to the nightmare too terrible to contemplate. On those occasions, Hutch would get up, pace the living room and finally settle himself on the sofa in his greenhouse, surrounded by his beloved plants, waiting for the sun to rise. Several times he'd thought of phoning Starsky and yet each time his hand reached for the phone, a small voice inside his head told him that this was his secret, as though mentioning his fears to someone, even his best friend would somehow make the terrors even more real. So Hutch remained silent about his dreams and his phobia, but sought out company whenever he could. So far, since that accident 26 months ago, Hutch had never once been on his own for any length of time.

Until now.

The small noises of the swamp made him jump and the added pain brought a groan to the blond's lips. His body trembled with weakness and at the tremors, the flies lapping at his blood took off in a mass, swarmed around him and then settled again, seething over the blond's tanned skin.

Slowly Hutch's eyes closed, his strength failing him.

_Starsk, c'mon buddy. Help me, please? Hurts...it hurts. This aint no fun...Hutch is dyin'_ He'd said it before. In a hospital bed in Bay City waiting for a flake with a cure in his blood to show up. The blond snickered to himself. They could make a movie out of what he and Starsky had been through in their lives as cops and yet this wasn't a movie. It was real and at 30 it was unfair that Hutch should have faced down death twice before. Was this going to be third time lucky for the grim reaper?

The world was fading out of existence, the sounds around him becoming muted. Even the annoying tickle of the flies on his body seemed to recede until there was nothing but an odd comfort and a growing cold starting at his toes and moving rapidly up his body. And suddenly Hutch wasn't scared of being alone any more. Suddenly he felt relaxed as he embraced the inevitable. His only disappointment was that he wouldn't see Starsky again and yet...

Hutch rested his head back against the rough bark of the cypress tree. Was death really so bad? It was... hey, hoof beats! Was this it? Was he in heaven and if so, were there really horses? Hutch had always had an affinity with the big animals. Maybe this was his childhood pony Crunchie, come back for him. A small smile played over Hutch's lips. Would he see his Granddaddy Wilbur again? Would heaven be all it was billed to be? And did angels still have wings, or had they modernised and gone for jet engines now?

The sounds of the hooves came closer and Hutch felt a large body next to him. 'Hey boy...' he whispered as the pony leaned down and blew hay scented breath at him. Hutch would have reached up and caressed the velvety nose if he'd had enough strength. As it was, he lay back and allowed the animal to nudge him gently.

'Move back Maestro. Let me see.'

A woman's voice? Now that was weird and a surprise. And now soft and gentle hands on his chest and travelling up to cup his face. Hutch gathered all his remaining energy and opened his eyes to look up into the moss green eyes of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. With the early morning sun behind her, the deep chestnut hair seemed to have a halo surrounding it.

'Beautiful' the injured blond murmured feeling it was only right to compliment the angel on her appearance. The woman gently brushed a flaxen bang from his forehead and traced the gash across his eyebrow with her finger.

'You must be Hutch.'

Hey! She knew his name! 'S me.'

'My name is Michelle.' The name almost sounded angelic and Hutch allowed the tones of the name to echo around his head. Michelle. It was as beautiful as the woman herself. Were all the women in heaven this gorgeous? If so, he was gonna be in for a real good time.

The voice continued to talk. 'I have your friend at my home. I saw you in his...well, he cried out for you.'

The mention of his partner brought Hutch back down to earth with a bump. With reality also came the pain and Hutch stifled a groan. 'Starsk? He's ok?' he managed to mumble

Michelle smiled. 'You care about him more than yourself?'

Hutch was so tired that talking took his strength. Instead of answering he nodded slowly. It was the truth. He did care more about Starsky. Somehow it was easier to worry about his partner than to worry about himself, as though if he truly contemplated his own position it would make it more real – and even more painful. Hutch opened his eyes again to try to reply and groaned at the movement. Michelle stroked his face.

'I need to get you back to my home. You're bleeding too much, but maybe I can fix that. But not here. Can you stand?' The woman busied herself untying Hutch's arm from the branch. The flies buzzed angrily now that their meal was on the move and the woman swatted them away as she gently lowered Hutch's wounded arm. With the return of circulation came more pain as though the blond's hand had been dipped in boiling water. Another groan escaped him and Hutch hated the fact that he felt so weak and helpless. He was the man. He was the one who was supposed to fix things and watch his partner's back and yet here he was, weak as a kitten and being helped by a woman. If he'd been fully aware, Hutch would have been angry at himself for the sexist thought and yet right at that moment, he felt only gratitude. Hutch did all he could to help the woman lever him upright but it cost and a cold sweat broke out across his body. Hutch felt cold, despite the heat of the swamp and as Michelle put Hutch's good arm around her shoulders and helped the blond to his feet Hutch hissed at the fire consuming his hand and arm and the way the world spun alarmingly around him.

Being vertical was a challenge. Los of blood left the cop disorientated, dizzy and with the feeling that his legs were like rubber and would give way at any time. Michelle whistled for the big dark bay horse who'd been calmly grazing a little way away. It lifted its head and walked over to stand by the woman.

'Can you get on board?' she asked.

Hutch looked up at the gentle beast. It wasn't he biggest horse in the world, but climbing up onto its back was going to be as tough as climbing Mount Everest. Michelle felt the tremors of weakness run through the man's body.

'Here, let me help' she said and almost propped Hutch against the flanks of the horse. 'Stand Maestro' she said softly and the animal snickered and looked around. Michelle dropped to her knees and made a step out of her clasped hands. 'Use this' she said and Hutch reluctantly put his foot onto the home made step and felt Michelle boost him up.

Maestro's back was warm, solid and comforting but the effort of getting onto it was just too much for the blond to make. Hutch hung over the animal's back, his head on one side and his legs on the other, like a sack of wheat. He had no energy left to sit astride the horse and if he had, he would have had no strength left to ride for there was no saddle. Instead, Hutch hung there for a moment staring down at the ground and then, as the horse took a step forwards, the inevitable occurred and Hutch blacked out, allowing the blackness to consume him totally and giving himself up willingly to peaceful oblivion.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Michelle guided Maestro and his precious cargo back to her cabin in the clearing without too much difficulty. Hutch was dead to the world and the woman worried about his pallor and loss of blood. His body was soaked in a cold sweat and he continued to shake uncontrollably. On her way back through the swamp she stopped for a few moments to collect some leaves here, a root there and then, just before entering the clearing, she saw a line of large soldier ants, busily heading back to their nest. Taking one of her foraging jars from the pannier across Maestro's back, she encouraged maybe twenty ants into the jar, screwed back the lid and hurried on.

Getting Hutch into the cabin was no mean feat. The blond was comatose and only by allowing the horse almost all the way into the living room could Michelle have any hope of getting the blond cop onto the bed. She managed however and the horse left as Michelle laid Hutch carefully on his back and looked down at both her patients.

Starsky was fighting the soporific effects of the tea she'd given him. Michelle had seen the ghost of Papa Noir in the brunet's eyes and although she recognised the powerful witch doctor and knew of his black magic, she also knew she had little time to get to Starsky's partner and bring him back to safety. It was a difficult choice – one man's sanity and another's physical injuries. The tea she'd brewed allowed her some time, but not too much before Papa reclaimed his lost man. Now Michelle looked at both men. Both were weak, both helpless and both in danger – Hutch from massive blood loss and Starsky from the dark power that threatened to take his mind.

Michelle had lived in the area all her life. She had been born into a family who practiced Voodoo in it's truest sense, concentrating on the healing aspect of the religion. She could cast hexes, work spells and she had come to surpass her mother in her powers, for in the Gallot family the magic was passed down through the female line. She knew plants and their healing properties and was often called upon to help a family when they couldn't afford the expensive doctors fees. She was also feared by some, for her power could also hurt, especially when she was cornered or afraid. She despised cruelty in all its forms and in her life she had had to deal with the fear of the locals and the taunts and physical blows from those who distrusted her or despised her magical practices. For that reason she chose to live away from it all, surrounded by the cypress trees and animals.

Michelle crossed the room and knelt by Starsky's bed. The brunet was semi conscious, his head rolling on the pillow as he fought some inner demon. His face showed pain in every line and the long cut on his belly was red and angry looking. But in the scheme of things, Michelle felt that Starsky's injuries could wait. Hutch was in far worse shape and needed her help more urgently. The woman poured the remains of her tea into a cup and held it to Starsky's lips, trickling its contents into his mouth. His eyes fluttered open and he swallowed, grimacing at the bitter brew, but he was only half aware of what was happening around him. He did, however, catch sight of Hutch on the other bed and made an effort to rise.

'Hutch?' he rasped.

'I'm going to see to him now. You should sleep. You need rest if you are going to fight the Dark One.'

'He's hurt.'

'I know, and I'll tend to him, but he's very weak. I have to warn you that even with my help, he may not survive the day.'

Starsky struggled to get out of the bed. 'Needs a doctor...lemme...I need to...'

'You need to rest and let me work.'

'I need to...'

Michelle pushed Starsky back gently onto the bed, wondering at the bond these two men seemed to share. Desperate to get to Hutch and start her work, but equally anxious that Starsky should rest, Michelle sighed and soothed the brunet. Placing her cool hands on either side of his face, she pressed gently at his temples with her thumbs.

'Sleep' she whispered. 'Rest and sleep.'

Starsky's eyes closed as though on cue. He felt the world slip away from him as though some unknown force had made him. At the sound of the woman's voice, his eyes closed and slumber reclaimed him. What power Michelle had over him he didn't know, but she felt so much safer than the influences he'd experienced from Papa Noir and the brunet allowed himself to settle back onto the bed.

Michelle stroked the chocolate coloured curls briefly. The man would need all his strength for the coming days for Papa would not give up on his prize so easily. She had seen before how the shaman had taken a man, usually a handsome, dark haired man like this one and turned him into a sort of whore, making money by loaning him out to others for their pleasure. Occasionally, Papa would keep one for himself, but that was an even worse fate. Papa Noir was perverted in his pleasures and enjoyed destroying both the body and mind of his "pets" before leaving them to die in the swamps. This couldn't happen again, not to this man, or any man, but Michelle knew she would need all her powers to fight.

The woman turned to Hutch. The blond cop had not stirred since she'd managed to get him onto the bed. Bare chested Michelle could see that the side of Hutch's body was encrusted with congealed and crusted blood and the make shift bandages around Hutch's arm were also sodden with blood. A large, dark bruise had formed across the blond's belly and she suspected an internal injury of sorts, but as her medicine woman experience kicked in, she looked at her patient with a practiced, clinical eye.

Her first task was to stop Hutch from bleeding any more. He seemed not to be in pain – that would likely come later, but for the moment, she thanked the gods that the handsome blond was unconscious. It would make her work easier. Gathering her medicines together gave Michelle time to think clearly. She put Datura leaves in a pot of boiling water and made a weak tea. Too much of the powerful narcotic would kill the blond man rather than help him, but the leaves would bring restful sleep and had good pain killing qualities. She also steamed some large Comfrey leaves and put those to one side along with the jar of ants and a length of clean white linen. Michelle knelt by Hutch's side and gently cut away the blood soaked bandages.

The slash on the inside of Hutch's arm was long and deep and the moment she took the pressure away from the wound, blood started to seep out and trickle down the limb. Michelle cleaned the wound thoroughly with some of the Datura liquid and studied the slash. It needed closing so that there would be no further blood loss and quickly she unscrewed the lid from her collecting jar and took out one of the large ants. Holding the tiny insect in her fingers, it reared up and waved its pincers menacingly at her it's head and mouthparts disproportionately bigger than its body. She smiled at the show of anger from the tiny insect and leaned forwards to hold the two margins of the knife wound on Hutch's arm closed and then she lowered the ant and allowed it to bite at Hutch's arm. Immediately it had sunk its pincers into the flesh on either side of the cut, Michelle twisted the body away, leaving the head embedded in the cop's arm, effectively holding the two lips of the wound closed.

Michelle repeated the process with the other insects until the length of the wound was closed by a row of ant heads. It didn't look particularly pretty, but it did he job and there was no further blood flow save for a tiny trickle at the middle. Satisfied for now that she had stopped the bleeding as best she could. Michelle took her white linen and ripped it into strips which she bound tightly around Hutch's arm. After half an hours work, the woman sat back on her heels and surveyed her patient. Hutch was still unconscious, but his arm was bandaged and his body clean. The bruise and the swelling on his belly had been treated by Comfrey leaves in a poultice and another wide white binding had been wrapped around the blond's middle. Now Michelle could do nothing else for him but wait and watch and hope that she'd done enough.

Starsky on the other hand had not been resting easily. He had tossed and turned on the bed, moaning softly and mumbling under his breath. It was obvious he was distressed and fighting some unseen foe as he brought his knees up, clutching at his gut and writhing on the bed. As Michelle started to tidy away her medicines and water however, the brunet let out one almighty scream and his body sat upright on the bed, his eyes staring wildly around him. As Michelle hurried to his side, Starsky started to struggle out of the bed.

'Where are you going?' the woman asked, trying to stop the brunet in his tracks. Starsky turned unseeing eyes to her.

'Home' he whispered. 'He wants me to go home.'

Michelle knew who "he" was. Papa Noir had once again taken a hold of the handsome brunet and was commanding him to return. The woman stood between Starsky and the door and closed her eyes, summoning her power around her like a cloak. Quietly she started to chant a protection spell, all the while holding onto he brunet's shoulders as he struggled against her.

'Light this soul and let it shine,  
light this perfect soul of mine,  
let it rise and guide me true  
flow through all I will and do.

Protect this man and all around, give me grace, good will abound.'

Michelle chanted the protection spell as she gently placed her hand on the brunet's chest. 'Go back to the bed' she said firmly. 'Go back to the bed and rest.'

Starsky's eyes widened and his spine bowed as though he'd taken a whip to his back. His deep blue eyes stared sightlessly and in them Michelle saw the black figure of Papa Noir. He screamed in anger and frustration and pointed directly at Michelle. She glared back.

'You won't have him. Not this time' she snapped and immediately Starsky fell backwards onto the bed, his body limp and relaxed. Michelle made the brunet as comfortable as she could and covered him with a sheet. His body was hot and dry to the touch. Papa was inducing a fever and as she set about making a tea to help Starsky battle the unseen evil, the curly haired cop started to moan and pant on the bed.

Michelle turned back to her patient. In the distance she heard a small voice, far off as though it was calling from the next valley and she strained her ears to hear. It was calling the man's name, softly, seductively and insistently and Starsky's body stilled on the bed.

The woman looked around, expecting to see some new person close to the cabin. The place was empty save for Hutch and Michelle stopped in her tracks, looking carefully around. Slowly she crossed the room towards Starsky's cot. The brunet had remained quiet, his face pale and his eyes fixed on some distant point and as she watched, the cop closed his eyes and a small smile crept across his lips. The unknown, unseen voice got a little louder and Michelle leaned down and touched Starsky's shoulder. He moaned and his body stiffened but he didn't reply when she called his name. Instead he seemed to be listening raptly to the seductive voice in the distance and as Michelle touched him, she too could hear it more clearly.

The woman knew then what was happening and she shook with anger and fear. Papa Noir had failed to use pain and anger to force Starsky to return to his side and so now, the devious evil man was using something the brunet understood a whole lot better. The shaman was calling Starsky to him not with agony but with physical pleasure – sex – and this time, Michelle knew she'd have to work hard to keep the brunet with her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Starsky hovered between sleep and wakefulness. He dimly remembered seeing Hutch on the cot opposite his own bed and he also thought he remembered the woman bending over his partner and seeing to Hutch's wounds. The memories were distant though, as though seen in a movie through soft focus lenses. The feelings in his body took all his concentration and now that he knew Hutch was once more with him, Starsky's will gave out and he surrendered to the voices in his head and the world behind his closed eyes. Even the quiet sounds of domesticity in the cabin receded until they were background noise as a raven haired, black beauty came into the room and crouched like a panther by the side of his cot.

The girl was black. As black as a moonless night, with skin that felt like the finest velvet. Her short, dark hair clustered in curls around her temples and framed a face with high cheek bones and sultry eyes. Her neck was long and elegant and as he looked further down, Starsky realised that she wore little else other than a tiny white halter neck top and a miniscule white skirt. Her body was toned, muscles showing across the plain of her flat stomach and in her belly button, a small white jewel seemed to be embedded, as if by magic. The jewel drew Starsky's attention and he longed to lick down the length of her body and worry the jewel from its resting place.

All thoughts of Hutch disappeared. The blond was being looked after, right? There was nothing that Starsky could do to help and besides his own body felt sore and heavy and in need of a little T.L.C. The girl leaned down close to his ear and blew gently, raising the hairs across Starsky's body. He let out a shaky sigh and the girl smiled down at him. Slowly, she stood, towering over the low cot as she unzipped the side of her skirt and let it fall to the ground. Her legs were long, slim and Starsky's eyes were drawn to the triangle of neatly trimmed black fuzz between her legs. The girl's eyes never left the handsome brunet as she pulled at the hem of her top and lifted it over her head to reveal small breasts with deep mocha areoles. Without moving her gaze, the woman cupped each, running her own fingers over the nipples until they hardened. Throwing her head back, she nipped at her nipples, playing with them, flicking her thumb over them until she moaned with pleasure and looked down at the brunet on the cot.

'Do you want to play?' she asked huskily.

In answer Starsky reached out his hands to her and she knelt by the side of his bed and softly kissed him on the lips.

Michelle watched the brunet on the bed. His thrashing had slowed somewhat and now he seemed to be resting, although he seemed preoccupied, reaching for an unseen person and moaning low in his throat. That was not the reaction she expected from her teas. Some other power was at work now and the woman closed her eyes, concentrating on the man on the bed. The cabin seemed to recede at Michelle concentrated hard and at first there was silence. She held onto the corner of the table to ground herself as her senses quested outwards, searching, feeling and finding nothing. But then, very far off, Michelle heard a woman's voice. It was seductive, husky and low and seemed to be coming from the bed Starsky occupied. The voice grew louder and Michelle opened her eyes not knowing what she would see. The voice was still there, but there was no other person in the room that she could see. As she watched though, she saw the curly haired cop reach up to an unseen figure. Just like that, Michelle realised what was happening and knew she needed to do something quickly.

From her small store cupboard at the back of the cabin Michelle retrieved a small jar of green powder. It was old and dusty and the cork was dry as a bone. There was no writing on the label but there was a symbol of some sort, faded almost to extinction. She uncorked the jar and placed a spoonful of the powder into a cup to which she added hot water and some honey. The next ingredient would be difficult for her to obtain but as Starsky's body was becoming more aroused, Michelle forced herself on, knowing she needed to act fast. She took a knife from a velvet pouch on the table and muttered some hasty words over the blade. Michelle knelt by the Starsky's side and caught his hand in hers. Carefully, she nicked a small vein in the brunet's wrist and collected a couple of drops of his blood on her knife blade. This she mixed with the tea she had brewed and as Starsky thrust his hips upwards on the bed, moaning softly, Michelle drank down the tea, put the cup to one side and closed her eyes, concentrating on the man in the bed.

The potion took effect quickly and as Michelle stood, she saw the bed through different eyes as though a gauze curtain had been stripped away and she could see clearly. Starsky's eyes were open and he was gazing at a tall, naked, beautiful black girl who was kneeling over the brunet like a panther would crouch over a kill. Michelle recognised her immediately.

'Ebony?'

The black woman looked up and snarled. 'He's mine. Hands off.' As though to reinforce her point, Ebony leaned down and claimed Starsky's eager mouth in a hungry kiss, her body rubbing against the brunets as his hips rose up to meet her.

Starsky reacted to the black woman like never before. He'd never met anyone so sensual, so seductive. For her, his body had hardened almost immediately. Now the brunet felt the delightful pressure and almost-pain in his groin and he longed to sink himself into her body. As she kissed him again, hard, all logic as to who she was and where she'd come from floated out of the window and Starsky didn't even question when Michelle suddenly seemed to appear by his bedside. He reached for her even as Ebony kissed him again.

Michelle sank to her knees by the side of the bed with a sigh. So this was how it was to be. No demons, no hexes or spells, just plain old fashioned sex, the subtlest warfare of all. Joining the battle, Michelle delicately licked a trail across Starsky's inner wrist and up to the fine skin at the crease of his elbow. In response he shivered and sighed.

The added sensations bowed Starsky's spine. He had been content... no, scrap that, he'd been deliriously happy when the black woman had showed up. She had the ability to take his mind away from the horrors he'd experienced earlier and from the pains in his body and he'd given himself up to her without a fight. Now, to have Michelle here too was almost more than he could handle. It was every red blooded guy's dream to be seduced by two women at once and he'd dreamed about it before, but now it was coming true and Starsky gladly gave himself up to the sensations running through his overheated body.

Ebony had given up her attention to Starsky's lips and was working her way lower now, whilst Michelle was working at his neck and chest, her delicate mouth worrying gently at his nipple even as Ebony's hand closed around his centre. Starsky groaned and his hands clawed at the bed clothes as he thrust his hips up to meet the black woman's hand, willing her to take him over the edge because his body had reached that place where he was in the throes of so much pleasure that it was almost painful.

'Ohhh yeah' he groaned, burying the side of his face in the pillow. 'Yeah.'

Michelle looked up as Ebony pumped her hand slowly down Starsky's length. The black woman was winning and once she'd conquered Starsky's body, his mind would follow quickly. No one man could survive Ebony's love making and be satisfied with another woman. Michelle had seen men go to their deaths willingly rather than be without her touch for one more night.

Michelle leaned close to Starsky's ear and blew gently. She nibbled at his ear lobe whilst with her other hand she roamed over the brunet's chest, scratching softly at the coarse hairs there. Gently, she held his face and kissed him full on the lips.

'Don't give in' she whispered urgently. 'Fight this, but don't give in.'

In reply, Ebony leaned down and took Starsky's shaft in her mouth, lowering herself slowly until his entire length was embedded. The brunet bucked on the bed, the feeling of being swallowed so erotic that his head felt ready to explode with pleasure. The centre of his body was on fire and he wanted to quench it inside the black woman's body. He longed for release and yet he wanted this moment to last forever. The women had taken him to a place he'd never experienced before and Starsky wanted it to last for an eternity. He embraced the pain/pleasure and let out a low growl and in response Ebony licked at him, flicking her tongue over his sensitive tip.

Michelle watched the battle she was losing. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

'Don't give in' she whispered again. 'Fight. Fight and keep on fighting this, do you hear me?'

Starsky's eyes half opened, but his gaze was glazed on an overdose of sex and he could do nothing other than groan again as Ebony continued her efforts. The black woman stopped just long enough to glare at Michelle.

'I told you he was mine. Did you think you could take him from me so easily?'

In response, Michelle kneeled up by the side of the cot. Other than pushing Ebony out of the way and taking her place, there was little else she could do to help Starsky unless...

Looking straight at Ebony, Michelle reached out her right hand, palm outwards and summoned all her power from deep within her core. She imagined Ebony inside a clear bubble from which the woman could not escape and softly she began to chant.

'Leave him alone and let him be, powers of goodness come to me.

Protect this man and all around. Powers of goodness now abound.

By all up high, the worlds and wise, by oceans wide and deep blue skies

By day and night, and powers three this is my will, so might it be!'

There was a crackle of electricity in the air over the bed and Ebony was flung back from her ministrations. The black woman screamed in fury as she struggled to get back to Starsky's side, but Michelle was still chanting, her face serene and her hand still outstretched, bespelling the black woman to retreat. On the bed, Starsky's body sagged back against the mattress but he still groaned, still thrust his hips up towards the hand that was no longer there.

'No...don't stop...need...oh gods I need to...'

Ebony laughed a mirthless laugh. 'He still needs me. He still craves my touch. Your spell may keep me away, but it's me he wants and he'll sink down into madness until he gets what he needs.'

Michelle let down her hand. In truth she knew that Ebony was right, unless she could break the black spell right now. She had vowed that she would not violate her patient. That wasn't in her nature and yet Starsky was panting heavily, his centre swollen and turgid as he clawed at the sheets and thrashed his head on the pillow.

'Don't go...don't stop...shit...noooo.'

In desperation and ignoring Ebony's words, Michelle did the only thing she could still think to do. She reached out and grasped Starsky's manhood in her left hand. The skin felt soft as satin, the flesh hard as polished marble beneath her hand and as she grasped him, Starsky let out a groan of pain/pleasure. The brunet was so close to climax that it took no more than a couple of strokes of her hand before Starsky's body exploded and he spilled himself onto the bed with a scream of satisfaction. His cock twitched as tremors ran up his spine and then there was blessed relief and he sank back onto the bed, satiated.

From the side, Ebony shrieked her anger and as Michelle carefully covered Starsky's body with a sheet, the brunet opened his eyes and smiled.

'That was... t'riffic' he whispered quietly.

Michelle smiled at him. 'Rest' she said softly. 'Rest and sleep.'

He nodded tiredly. 'Where's...'

In a flash Ebony was at his side, caressing her hand down the side of his face. Starsky smiled up at her as she leaned in close.

'Did you think you could escape me so easily Mon Cher?'

Starsky's eyes opened wide, Ebony's voice somehow altering as she spoke. Now, before his eyes, the woman's features seemed to melt like hot wax and reform before him so that he was looking up into the blacker than black eyes of Papa Noir. The witch doctor grinned evilly.

'I have tasted your body Mon Cher. I will have you again.'

Starsky backed up the bed in horror, his mouth open but his voice somehow paralysed. By his side, Michelle raised her hand again.

'Be gone' she commanded. 'Be gone and don't return.'

'I will always be with him' Papa spat. In the wink of an eye, the witch doctor disappeared leaving nothing but a maniacal laugh to fade behind him. Starsky stared shakily at the place where the witch doctor had been.

'It was him...all along?'

'He's lured many lovers that way, but I've cast a protection spell that should be difficult for him to break for the moment. Rest. You need rest and sleep. Here, drink this.' Michelle held out a cup of herbal tea.

'I don't want it. I... Oh fuck, that was him all along and...' the brunet's pulse raced as he recalled the pleasure he'd felt at Ebony/Papa's touch.

Michelle felt for the man. She'd seen Papa Noir's work before and she knew how Starsky must be feeling right now. He wouldn't...couldn't rest unless...

'Storms within and storms without  
Storms above and storms below,  
In your centre only stillness  
Its my will, and it is so.'

The spell for sleep acted quickly. Michelle cradled Starsky's head as he fought not to close his eyes, but the magic was powerful and the brunet was still weak from his injuries and his time with Ebony. Slowly, his protestations ceased and his thick black lashes closed over the troubled, horror filled indigo pools and sleep claimed him whilst Michelle held him close and wondered how she was going to save these two men.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

For two days the two men fought to regain their health. For Hutch that meant drinking teas brewed for him by Michelle and sleeping for much of the time. His body was heavy and sore, as though he'd been beaten by a club all over. The centre of his body was the worst and on the occasions he used the bathroom, he was disconcerted to see that he was heavily bruised and swollen between his legs. Just the memories of Kaleb's boot pressing down on him left the blond cop dizzy and sick to his stomach and he wondered if any permanent damage had been done. Hutch was no braggart, but he had a reputation in the shower room at the gym for being well endowed. Right now he was swollen to twice his normal size and even the pressure of walking set his teeth on edge. Added to that, his arm also hurt although it didn't bleed anymore and the blond man was curious about the row of knobbly projections beneath the fresh white linen bandage.

At first he distrusted Michelle, not because she was unkind, far from it, but Hutch had been brought up in the world of traditional medicine where there was a drug for each ailment and blood transfusions when a patient had lost as much gore as he had. He was wary of the woman's teas and of her disconcerting gaze and piercing green eyes. She had a direct way of looking at him which was at once comforting and also uncomfortable and yet, as the hours went on and he slept, rested and dreamed, he found his body getting stronger and his periods of sleep less to the extent that on the third day, he was able to sit up in his bed, propped up by pillows and take an interest in the world around him.

Starsky too had been quietly resting. At first he was awkward around Michelle, not knowing whether his memories of Papa Noir and the black woman Ebony had been dreams or the real deal. The sex had certainly felt real to him and if those memories were real, then he owed Michelle a debt of gratitude he would never be able to truly repay. If the memories were part of an elaborate dream, then he still felt more than uncomfortable at what his imagination had told him Michelle had done. Whichever way he looked at it Starsky was confused as hell, just a little scared and unsure how he should treat the woman. In self defence he remained quiet and withdrawn and spent much of his time lying on his cot or sitting by Hutch's bedside watching over his partner as the woman went about her daily tasks.

Michelle knew better than to push the brunet to talk about his and Hutch's ordeal. She knew enough of Papa Noir and the men who surrounded the witch doctor to know that they would not have treated two out of town cops well, and the bruises across Starsky's throat and Hutch's belly gave testament to the fact. She contented herself with looking after them, tending to their wounds and administering what herbal remedies she had to aid in their recovery.

It was not until the morning of the third day that a bloody nightmare shook Hutch from his sleep. Starsky was instantly at his side. The blond thrashed his head on the pillow, his hands fending off some unseen force as he snarled and whimpered.

'Hey buddy, it's ok, it's ok, you're ok now.' Starsky's soft voice penetrated the nightmare and set the demons fleeing so that Hutch's body relaxed. He groaned softly and his crystal blue eyes closed, opened and focused as a look of pain lanced across his face. 'Starsk. They were...I was there again, with 'em. They made us... made you and me...Oh gods...' Hutch closed his eyes and turned his face to the wall, unable to look his friend in the eye.

Starsky put his hand on the blond's shoulder and gently pulled him onto his back. 'You're fine. It was a nightmare. There's no-one else here. It's just me and thee, like always.'

'But I keep deamin' of the barn and...'

Starsky bowed his head, a tightness suddenly grabbing his chest and squeezing the breath from him. Neither man had spoken about the violations they had experienced at the hands of Clyde and Jed. In the scheme of things, what they'd been forced to do was small fry, but Starsky had known that sooner or later they would have to discuss what had happened, for their own sanity if for nothing else. He had just hoped that they could wait until maybe they had got back to Bay City because thinking about what had happened whilst they were still stranded in the swamplands made their experiences all too real. Maybe distance would somehow blur the memories and make them easier to talk about.

'I know, I know. It freaked me out too.'

'But that fuckin' madman had you. It was you he wanted. It was...they...how the hell're ya dealin' with this?' Hutch asked, closing his eyes again as though it would somehow bring him the answers he sought.

'I dunno. Maybe I'm not. Maybe this is all still part of the nightmare. All I do know is we survived and we can get the hell out of here soon as you're strong enough.'

'And what about you? Are you healin'? I mean, what he did to ya...what happened in the barn and out there in the swamp. That was for real buddy. He messed with ya. With your mind and your...'

Starsky looked away, not wanting Hutch to know just how much Papa Noir had screwed with him – figuratively and literally. The brunet didn't want to process what had gone on in that overheated dream. He wasn't ready to think about it. Hell, he may never be ready to think about Ebony/Papa's hands on his body, bringing him so much pleasure. Deep down Starsky wanted more. Not from the witch doctor himself, but from someone...anyone who could bring him with just one touch. He shuddered as though someone had walked over his grave and ignored the small distant voice in his head.

'I can deal with it' he said, a little too sharply. 'I need you to be strong and well. Michelle says maybe today you can try gettin' out of bed?'

'You mean I got parole?' Hutch joked. 'Let me out.' The blond smiled, but behind his eyes he was a troubled man. Starsky still had that haunted, hunted look in his eyes and whether it was from the brunet's ordeal or something else, Hutch didn't know, but determined to find out.

Michelle watched the two men from the corner of her eye. She saw how much they cared for each other and how each man seemed more concerned for the other than for themselves, but they would still need their strength if they were to make it through. Since the night of the battle with Ebony, Papa Noir had been quiet. It seemed a relief to Starsky that Michelle hadn't spoke of that time, but the woman knew that though the battle had been won, the war was far from over. If Papa was going to go to so much trouble over the brunet, he wouldn't give up so easily. Michelle was ready and waiting for the rematch and as she watched the conversation unfold between Hutch and Starsky, she got the first warning that once again Papa Noir was on the warpath. Starsky had said something to his friend and then had looked away. Michelle was attuned to body language and she had seen the faint shiver run down the curly haired man's spine. At the same time, she too had heard the distant voice calling to Starsky and beckoning him home once more.

Silently Michelle went to her store cupboard and started to gather together the things she would need to protect two patients and herself. As she started her preparations, the voice got louder and more insistent and when she came back into the living room, Starsky was sitting apart from the blond cop, his head once more in his hands. Hutch struggled out of his bed as Starsky gave a low groan and clutched at his temples, closing his eyes in pain as his body shook.

'No, get the fuck away. Leave me alone' the cop whispered. 'Leave me alone.'

Hutch looked up at Michelle and back at Starsky. Gently he took his buddy's wrists in his hands and tried to pull Starsky's hands from his head.

'Starsk? Talk to me buddy. What's goin' down huh?'

Starsky hung his head, shaking it slowly from side to side. Grimly he prised his hands from Hutch's grip and once more clutched at his temples, his breathing rapid and a sheen of sweat blooming across his face.

'He's coming back' Michelle said quietly.

'Who? Who's coming back?'

'Papa Noir. He's been quiet for a couple of days, but now he's intent on taking back his slave.'

Hutch got up angrily. 'Ok. Enough of this. There's no such thing as black magic. There's no such thing as possession and he certainly aint no-ones slave.' Once again Hutch dropped to his knees as Starsky leaned back against the bed and curled himself into a foetal position, drawing his knees up to his chest.

'Starsk, c'mon buddy. Here, let me' Hutch whispered, gently moving Starsky's hand from his head and rubbing small circles against the brunet's temple. Starsky opened his eyes. Anger blazed from them, with a hint of fear in the background.

'He's in my head. He's there, all the time an' I can't shake him. He's comin'. I can feel him gettin' louder, stronger an' I can't fight it.'

Hutch clutched harder at his friend's hands. 'Starsk look at me. We aren't part of this...this madness. We don't believe in this insanity. What happened back there was horrific but it was ...'

Michelle sat on the bed by the side of the two men. 'It was real, and in your heart of hearts you know it.'

'I refuse to believe that' Hucth snapped.

'Do you refuse to believe your dreams? Your nightmares? You can't tell me you havent' dreamed of him – of Papa Noir?'

Hutch paused. There was no way he could ignore the fact that his dreams had all been tormented nightmares centred around the witch doctor. 'I...they were just nightmares. The mind's way of dealin' with what happened.'

'And what did happen Hutch?' Michelle asked gently. 'How can you explain Starsky's behaviour? How can you make logic out of what happened? You can't because the dark side of Voodoo has no logic. Whether you believe or not, this is happening and Papa Noir is coming right now to finish this once and for all.'

The blond cop stopped in his tracks. He looked from Starsky, who was once again clutching at his temples and shuddering on the bed, back to Michelle who sat serene but determined in front of him. And for the first time, the calm, logical Hutch could think of nothing to say other than 'Finish this how exactly?'

'Papa has marked Starsky as a "pet" for want of a better explanation - as a commodity that he can own or sell to the highest bidder. He's coming for him right now and this will end either in Papa getting his own way and taking Starsky with him, or your friend descending into insanity. Either way, Papa will ensure that you won't have him back.'

'Over my dead body' Hutch snapped.

From the bed Starsky looked up at the woman and his friend. 'Some of the guys in the squad room think I'm crazy already. I'll fight, God help me I'll fight, but if this aint real Hutch, I'm a candidate for Cabrillo State already. He's here, in my head an' I can't shut the fucker up.'

Hutch swallowed hard. The blond was braver than most, but what scared Hutch was what he couldn't see or understand and right now, he was staring fear in the face.

'Tell me what we need to do.' Hutch looked at Michelle for inspiration.

The woman nodded. 'You've taken the first step by opening your mind to the possibility that this is for real. Now we need to prepare.'


	17. Chapter 17

**My dear friends. Thanks once again for coming with me on the journey of this story. I'm glad you enjoyed it and I'm grateful for all the wonderful reviews you've left for me. I want to take this opportunity to wish you all a very happy, healthy Christmas and a New Year that will bring all you truly wish for and need.**

**Thank you once again...oh, and look out for "Shadowlands" the next story coming in the New Year.**

**Love and hugs, KW.**

Chapter 17

Michelle handed Hutch a pot of table salt – the ordinary sort used to spice foods. 'You need to lay an unbroken line of salt at every opening to the cabin – across the doorways, the window ledges and at the foot of the chimney. Make sure the salt line is unbroken. Evil spirits can't cross the salt, it burns them and reminds them of the brimstone in hell. When you're done, I need you both to wash using the soap I've laid out. It contains herbs that I've found useful in the past. There's no guarantee they'll work, but it's the best I can do. Hurry. Papa Noir will be here soon.'

Hutch took the salt pot from the woman not knowing whether to laugh in her face or book himself into Cabrillo right now but the serious look on Michelle's face put his doubts firmly to the back of his mind and he set about his task. Meanwhile, Michelle sat by Starsky on the bed. The brunet was still writhing and clutching at his head, moaning softly as his body shuddered. Gently she took his shoulder and pulled him over so that he could look at her.

'You are the most important link in this chain. From you I need truth. You can tell how close the Dark One is and you need to tell me, so that we can prepare. Can you do that for me?'

Starsky nodded past the voice yelling at him inside his head. Gone were the whispers of seduction. Gone too were he promises of what Papa could do for Starsky. In place of the soothing velvet voice, Papa was now unleashing the full force of his anger onto the brunet, screaming at him and threatening him with scenarios that had Starsky shaking and shuddering. He would do anything to be rid of the monster who was semi-possessing him and feel the quiet of his own mind once again.

'He's close' Starsky panted. 'He's coming for me and this time he's gonna take what he wants.'

'Fight him. Stay strong and fight. It's the only way to conquer him' Michelle said softly. She looked up. 'How much longer?' she asked the blond cop.

Hutch put down he now empty salt crock. 'All the windows, door and chimney are done. Now what?'

'Take Starsky, wash and come back to me. After that, I need to perform a protection spell, although I have to warn you that the Dark One is strong. We'll need to keep our wits about us.'

Hutch dropped to his knees by Starsky's cot. The brunet seemed once more lost in the world inside his head and he flinched as his partner touched him on the shoulder. 'C'mon buddy. We got things to do.'

Starsky shook his head as though to clear it. 'We gonna beat his flake?'

'Hey, how many flakes have we taken out in the past huh? Prudholm, Matwick. They never got the better of us.'

The curly haired man snickered. 'As I recall, we could actually see 'em comin'. He's in my head Hutch. Right here inside my head an' I can't shut the bastard up.'

'Then ignore him. Try to shut him out. Sing, recite poems or gods...even the Miranda if ya have to, but don't let him take you over. C'mon, we gotta wash up before Michelle works her mojo.'

Starsky climbed off the bed as Hutch held out his hand. The air inside the cabin seemed somehow colder now and as they passed the fire in the grate, he flames flickered, sputtered and then died. Michelle shuddered.

'Be quick. He's close.'

The two cops washed quickly but thoroughly. Neither man could fully understand why they were cleaning themselves but the soap Michelle had given them smelled pleasant. Hutch detected hints of Rosemary, Mallow and some Sage in the background but they had little time to fully appreciate the finer points of soap making. Michelle called them back to the living room urgently.

As they walked into the room, the air felt thick enough that both men coughed and started to choke. It was as though the oxygen in the room had somehow been sucked out and what was left was almost solid and sulpherous. A thin mist had started to form and Michelle held her hands out to both Starsky and Hutch. They came to her and she knelt on the floor, indicating that they should do the same. As they came closer, they could see that the woman had made a circle of salt and sprigs of some unidentifiable herb on the hard boards of the floor and she was sitting inside it. At the centre of the circle a single candle burned, it's flame proud and true. Michelle's eyes were clouded and she panted heavily as though she'd run a marathon.

'He's so close. I can feel him pressing in on us' she whispered, her eyes never leaving the candle flame.

Starsky put his hands to his head and let out a hiss of pain. 'He's louder. He's so loud...so...fuck! Hutch it hurts...it hurts. Make it stop, for gods sake make it stop.' The brunet slumped forwards inside the circle so that his forehead touched the floor as he moaned softly and tugged at his curls. Beside him, Hutch rubbed his back and looked helplessly at Michelle.

'Can you help him?'

'The protection charm I placed on the cabin is strong, but Papa Noir is stronger. He's pushing against it as we speak. He's testing it, trying to find a way in.'

'Well try harder. Do somethin'...anythin'. Do you have a gun?'

Michelle frowned. 'No, but even if I did, it wouldn't help. You can't shoot a spirit.'

'I can shoot him.' Hutch started to get up but Michelle held him down.

'Don't leave the circle. Not with him so close.'

'So what? We just wait whilst he destroys my buddy?'

Michelle shook her head. 'He may have Starsky's mind, but we have his body and his welfare. Concentrate on Starsky. Think of the good times you've had and how much you care for him. The thoughts will strengthen the circle of power.'

Hutch frowned, finding this whole scenario both wacky and scary. The look on Michelle's face, however, dispelled any further feelings of stupidity and focused the blond's mind on his task. Think good thoughts. Good thoughts of Starsky and his friendship with the brunet.

_A bright Sunny day and a girl to watch over. 'So who do we trust, huh? Same as always buddy. Me and Thee...'_

_An alley way and a rusting fire escape. 'It hurts Hutch...god it hurts...'_

_Huggy's spare room. 'I got ya, you big lug. I got ya...'_

_The squad room and the brunet clearing out his desk. A hand stretched across time and space. 'You're my friend Hutch...'_

_A woman by his side, snuggling, her body warm; a knock at the door and the woman departed; voices raised and Hutch was at the door, facing the accusation in Starsky's eyes as he tucked in his shirt..._

_A deserted apartment and Starsky standing by the body of Hutch's girl, a gun in his hand as he looked up from killing his beloved Gillian. Starsky had shot her and..._

Michelle roused him from his thoughts. 'Your face suddenly changed. Are you alright?'

Hutch shook himself from the distorted memories. 'No, I...I...I can't think, can't remember...oh my god!' The blond pitched forwards, bowing his spine as though a whip lash had fallen across it. At the same time, the voice in Starsky's head began to quiet and he levered himself up onto his knees. He looked around as though seeing the room for the first time and his eyes settled on Hutch.

'Buddy? What's happening?'

Hutch gasped, his hands clawing at his back as another pain assaulted him. 'Dunno...I...'

'Papa Noir has changed his tactics' Michelle snapped bitterly. 'I should have seen this coming. He knows you're strong and that pain alone will never break you. How do you feel?'

'Better I guess. Still sore 'n then some, but... the voice is almost gone. You did it!'

Michelle shook her head. I did nothing. He's simply changed the way he's going to fight this.'

As though to reinforce the statement, Hutch threw his head back and let out a yell of pain as a red slash appeared across his back and blood started to seep through the long, angry looking wound. The blond screamed again as another identical mark appeared and Starsky stared incredulously.

'What the fuck...?'

'The voice in your head is gone?'

Starsky paused for a second, considering. 'Yeah, pretty much. But that don't answer my question.'

'Yes it does. In a way, you did win, you beat him or at least you made Papa wonder if he would ever truly conquer you. He knows you're strong enough to resist physical or mental pain so now...'

'Hell no! He's targeting Hutch to get to me?'

'It would seem so, and I never saw it coming' Michelle said softly.

'So what now. What do we do?' the brunet asked as yet another slash appeared on Hutch's back, running parallel to the other two. Hutch groaned as he toppled onto his side in pain.

'Buddy, listen to me. We're gonna get through this, huh? We can do this, ok?' Starsky took Hutch's head in his hands. The blond's pain filled eyes blinked open and he snorted.

'Feels better already, but he's here an' I can feel...aarrgh.' Another scream escaped Hutch's lips as a gash opened up on the side of his head. The blood immediately started to trickle down the side of his face and in Starsky's head a heavily French accented voice sounded.

'He will hurt until you're mine, Mon Cher.'

Hutch closed his eyes as Starsky looked away. The brunet let go of Hutch's head and once again the pain returned, worse than before.

Michelle got to her knees. 'Hold him. Hold him close and touch him' she said urgently.

Starsky snorted. 'We aren't...'

'Your touch keeps Papa Noir at bay. He's the embodiment of evil and he's powerful but he can't fight past the touch of true friendship. Hold Hutch and keep on holding him.'

Starsky did as he was bid, kneeling close and pulling the blond over to him until he could wrap his arms around Hutch's body, drawing him close. The flaxen haired cop sagged against his buddy, his body shaking and trembling as he fought Papa's unseen presence.

'S'good...better' he mumbled. 'Hurts, but it's better.'

Inside Starsky's head a scream echoed. It was an angry sound and Papa Noir yelled down the thread he'd created between himself and Starsky. 'I'll have one of you, or both of you Mon Cher, it matters not, but you won't win...won't win.'

Michelle leaned over and placed her arms around Starsky's neck. With one hand tangled in Hutch's wheaten bangs and the other entwined in chocolate curls, she drew Starsky and Hutch to her and kissed the brunet full on the lips. Starsky hesitated, unsure and then responded as the scream in his head redoubled it's efforts. Now, though, Papa Noir's voice held an edge of desperation and as Starsky's tongue gently played with Michelle's and his arms tightened around Hutch's body, the scream trailed off into a sob.

One last time Papa cast out his magic, slashing at Hutch with his power but this time nothing more than a bruise appeared on the blond's face. Hutch winced and his body recoiled and then there was silence in the room around the tight knot of people. Michelle held both Starsky and the blond in her arms whilst Starsky had one arm around the girl and the other around Hutch's body. Hutch clutched at Starsky's waist as though he'd never let go as the blood slowly trickled down his back and onto the floor.

For an age the three remained locked together, not wanting to let go in case Papa Noir had somehow tricked them but slowly the air inside the cabin began to warm, the fire in the hearth flickered and sprang back to life and the mist that had permeated the cabin lifted. As the room warmed and the angry voice of the witch doctor died away Michelle looked around as though seeing the room anew. Starsky watched her.

'Is he truly gone?' he brunet asked, his voice shaky.

Michelle examined the circle of salt and herbs she'd laid down. It was scuffed but unbroken as though some unseen force had tried to cross the line and been repelled. The single candle at the centre of the circle still burned brightly and the cabin was silent. Even the birds had once again started to sing outside and the air seemed fresh like a dewy morning.

'I think so. Yes.'

'And he's not gonna come back?' Starsky asked.

'He's powerful, but his power isn't limitless. He would need time to recharge himself but even then, I think he will know when he is truly beaten. I think he will not return.'

Starsky ran his hands through Hutch's hair. 'Hear that buddy? We got rid of the bogy man.'

Hutch shuddered and let go of his partner, pushing himself up until he was kneeling. He winced as he moved and Starsky too winced at the freshly bleeding welts across the golden skin of the blond's back. 'We did?'

'Uh huh. Now we just need to get the hell outa here and back to the real world.'

'Not before I dress your back' Michelle said, getting up and sweeping away the salt circle. 'After that, I think Hutch is right. You should go. Put as much distance as you can between yourselves and Lapetite. Distance will sever his connection for good.'

Starsky helped Michelle to her feet. 'And what about you? Will he come after you now?'

The woman smiled. 'He may. We've battled before, but I can handle him if I need to.'

'Can't we take you back with us?' Hutch asked as Michelle started to dab away at the welts on his back

'To what? A life in a city? Somehow I don't think there would be much call for a witch in California.'

Starsky snorted. 'It's California honey. Anythin' goes! But seriously, are you gonna be safe here on your own? I mean...'

Michelle put up her hand. 'I'll be fine. And besides, I'm not alone. I have friends and some family. Just because I chose to live alone doesn't mean I'm lonely and as you've seen, I can take care of myself.'

The brunet nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He felt a debt of gratitude to the woman that he would never be able to repay but at the same time, he knew he needed to get out of the swamp, out of Louisiana and out of the way of Papa Noir once and for all.

He reached out a hand and gently touched Michelle's face. 'There's nuthin I can do or say to repay ya?' he said gently.

'Be safe and keep together' she said. 'And maybe stay away from Voodoo for a while?'

**Epilogue**.

The plane touched down at LAX right on time. Baggage collection took a record ten minutes to clear and then the taxi took the two men through the city and back out to Starsky's house. The flight had been a relief to them but uncomfortable for Hutch and Starsky had winced in sympathy with his buddy every time Hutch's back touched the seat. The slashes inflicted by Papa Noir had been real enough and despite the cooling poultices Michelle had applied, the blond would carry the scars till the end of his days. Starsky's own scars were carried on the inside and when he was alone or when conversation ceased, the brunet tensed, expecting to hear the heavily French accented voice once more in his head.

The cab drew to a halt outside Ridgeway and Starsky opened the door to his apartment with a sigh of relief. Hutch followed him inside and as he threw his bags down onto the floor Starsky went into the kitchen in search of beer.

Two minutes later the brunet had not reappeared and Hutch heard a muffled noise. He got up, rounded the cabinet into the kitchen and stopped short.

Starsky stood with his fridge door open, staring wide eyed and shaking.

'Starsk?' Hutch asked. 'You ok?'

The brunet slammed his fridge door shut and plastered a smile on his face. 'No beer' he said. 'Want coffee instead?'

Hutch paused. 'Sure.'

'Great, coffee it is. Go'n sit down and rest your back huh? Be right with ya.'

'Starsky are you sure you're ok?' Hutch asked.

'I said I was, yeah. Just...ya know, tired. Go an' sit down huh? Coffee'll be right up.'

Hutch cast his buddy a searching look but turned and made his way back to the living room as Starsky ran his hands through his hair and once more opened the fridge door. There at the back of the fridge, propped up against the beer was the corpse of a black chicken, it's feathers still intact and by it's side a note on white paper with red writing. Starsky tore it from the shelf and screwed it up hastily and then unballed it again and read the words once more. Fear spiked and a cold shudder rand down his spine as he reread the message.

'By blood we are bound. Until we meet again, Mon Cher.'

-fin-


End file.
